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Weird  Tales 

BY 

E.  T.  W.  HOFFMANN 

A  NEW  TRANSLATION  FROM  THE  GERMAN 
WITH  A  BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIR 
By  J.  T.  BEALBY,  B.A. 

FORMERLY  SCHOLAR  OF  CORPUS  CHRISTI  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  II. 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1885 


TROWS 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY, 
NEW  YORK. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


The  Doge  and  Dogess,  i 

Master  Martin  the  Cooper,  68 

Mademoiselle  de  Scuderi,  149 

Gambler's  Luck,  242 

Master  Johannes  Wacht,  280 

Biographical  Notes,  345 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS.* 


HTHIS  was  the  title  that  distinguished  in  the  art- 
*  catalogue  of  the  works  exhibited  by  the  Berlin 
Academy  of  Arts  in  September,  1816,  a  picture  which 
came  from  the  brush  of  the  skilful  clever  Associate  of 
the  Academy,  C.  Kolbe.2  There  was  such  a  peculiar 
charm  in  the  piece  that  it  attracted  all  observers.  A 
Doge,  richly  and  magnificently  dressed,  and  a  Dogess 
at  his  side,  as  richly  adorned  with  jewellery,  are  step- 
ping out  on  to  a  balustered  balcony  ;  he  is  an  old  man, 
with  a  grey  beard  and  rusty  red  face,  his  features  indi- 
cating a  peculiar  blending  of  expressions,  now  revealing 
strength,  now  weakness,  again  pride  and  arrogance, 
and  again  pure  good-nature  ;  she  is  a  young  woman, 
with  a  far-away  look  of  yearning  sadness  and  dreamy 
aspiration  not  only  in  her  eyes  but  also  in  her  general 
bearing.  Behind  them  is  an  elderly  lady  and  a  man 
holding  an  open  sun-shade.  At  one  end  of  the  bal- 
cony is  a  young  man  blowing  a  conch-shaped  horn, 
whilst  in  front  of  it  a  richly  decorated  gondola,  bearing 
the  Venetian  flag  and  having  two  gondoliers,  is  rock- 
ing on  the  sea.    In  the  background  stretches  the  sea 

1  Written  for  the  Taschenbuch  der  Liebe  und  Freundschaft  gewidmet, 
1819  ;  edited  by  S.  Schütze,  Frankfort-on-Main. 

2  C.  W.  Kolbe,  junr.,  historical  and  genre  painter,  was  born  in  1781 
and  died  in  1S53. 

Vol.  II. — i 


2 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


itself  studded  with  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  sails, 
whilst  the  towers  and  palaces  of  magnificent  Venice 
are  seen  rising  out  of  its  waves.  To  the  left  is  Saint 
Mark's,  to  the  right,  more  in  the  front,  San  Giorgio 
Maggiore.  The  following  words  were  cut  in  the  golden 
frame  of  the  picture. 

Ah !  senza  amare, 
Andare  sul  mare 
Col  sposo  del  mare, 
Non  puo  consolare. 

To  go  on  the  sea 

With  the  spouse  of  the  sea. 

When  loveless  I  be, 

Is  no  comfort  to  me. 

One  day  there  arose  before  this  picture  a  fruitless 
altercation  as  to  whether  the  artist  really  intended  it 
for  anything  more  than  a  mere  picture,  that  is,  the 
temporary  situation,  sufficiently  indicated  by  the  verse, 
of  a  decrepit  old  man  who  with  all  his  splendour  and 
magnificence  is  unable  to  satisfy  the  desires  of  a  heart 
filled  with  yearning  aspirations,  or  whether  he  intended 
to  represent  an  actual  historical  event.  One  after  the 
other  the  visitors  left  the  place,  tired  of  the  discussion, 
so  that  at  length  there  were  only  two  men  left,  both 
very  good  friends  to  the  noble  art  of  painting.  "I 
can't  understand,"  said  one  of  them,  "  how  people  can 
spoil  all  their  enjoyment  by  eternally  hunting  after 
some  jejune  interpretation  or  explanation.  Indepen- 
dently of  the  fact  that  I  have  a  pretty  accurate  notion 
of  what  the  relations  in  life  between  this  Doge  and 
Dogess  were,  I  am  more  particularly  struck  by  the  sub- 
dued richness  and  power  that  characterises  the  picture 
as  a  whole.    Look  at  this  flag  with  the  winged  lions, 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


3 


how  they  flutter  in  the  breeze  as  if  they  swayed  the 
world.  O  beautiful  Venice  ! "  He  began  to  recite 
lurandot's  1  riddle  of  Lion  of  the  Adriatic,  "  Dimmiy 
qual  sia  quella  terribil /era,"  &c.  He  had  hardly  come  to 
the  end  when  a  sonorous  masculine  voice  broke  in  with 
Calaf's 2  solution,  "  Tu  quadrupcde  fera"  &c.  Unob- 
served by  the  friends,  a  man  of  tall  and  noble  appear- 
ance, his  grey  mantle  thrown  picturesquely  across  his 
shoulder,  had  taken  up  a  position  behind  them,  and 
was  examining  the  picture  with  sparkling  eyes.  They 
got  into  conversation,  and  the  stranger  said  almost  in 
a  tone  of  solemnity,  "It  is  indeed  a  singular  mystery, 
how  a  picture  often  arises  in  the  mind  of  an  artist,  the 
figures  of  which,  previously  indistinguishable,  incorpo- 
rate mist  driving  about  in  empty  space,  first  seem  to 
shape  themselves  into  vitality  in  his  mind,  and  there 
seem  to  find  their  home.  Suddenly  the  picture  con- 
nects itself  with  the  past,  or  even  with  the  future,  rep- 
resenting something  that  has  really  happened  or  that 
will  happen.  Perhaps  it  was  not  known  to  Kolbe  him- 
self that  the  persons  he  Avas  representing  in  this  pict- 


1  The  story  Turandot  has  a  history.  Its  prototype  is  in  the  Persian 
poet  Nizaml  (1141-1203).  From  Gozzi  it  was  translated  into  German 
by  Werthes  ;  and  it  was  from  his  translation  that  Schiller  worked  up 
his  play  in  November  and  December,  1801.  The  proud  Turandot, 
daughter  of  the  Emperor  of  China,  entertains  such  loathing  of  marriage 
that  she  rejects  all  suitors,  until  on  her  father's  threatening  to  compel 
her  to  wed,  she  institutes  a  kind  of  version  of  the  caskets  in  the 
Merchant  of  Venice.  Any  prince  may  woo  for  her,  but  in  a  peculiar 
way.  He  must  solve  three  riddles  in  the  full  assembly  of  the  court.  If 
he  succeeds,  he  wins  the  princess  ;  if  he  does  not  succeed,  he  loses  his 
own  head.  In  Gozzi  the  three  riddles  are  about  the  Year,  the  Sun,  and 
(extremely  inapposite  to  the  circumstances)  the  Lion  of  the  Adriatic. 
The  two  last  Schiller  replaced  by  riddles  about  the  Eye  and  the  Plough. 

2  Calaf,  Prince  of  Astrakhan,  successfully  solves  the  riddles  and  wins 
the  Princess  Turandot. 


4 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


ure  are  none  other  than  the  Doge  Marino  Falieri1  and 
his  lady  Annunciata." 

The  stranger  paused,  but  the  two  friends  urgently- 
entreated  him  to  solve  for  them  this  riddle  as  he  had 
solved  that  of  the  Lion  of  the  Adriatic.  Whereupon 
he  replied,  "  If  you  have  patience,  my  inquisitive  sirs,  I 
will  at  once  explain  the  picture  to  you  by  telling  you 
Falieri's  history.  But  have  you  patience  ?  I  shall  be 
very  circumstantial,  for  I  cannot  speak  otherwise  of 
things  which  stand  so  life-like  before  my  eyes  that  I 
seem  to  have  seen  them  myself.  And  that  may  very 
well  be  the  case,  for  all  historians — amongst  whom  I 
happen  to  be  one — are  properly  a  kind  of  talking  ghost 
of  past  ages." 

The  friends  accompanied  the  stranger  into  a  retired 
room,  when,  without  further  preamble,  he  began  as 
follows  : — 

It  is  now  a  long  time  ago,  and  if  I  mistake  not,  it 
was  in  the  month  of  August,  1354,  that  the  valiant 
Genoese  captain,  Paganino  Doria 2  by  name,  utterly 
routed  the  Venetians  and  took  their  town  of  Parenzo. 
And  his  well-manned  galleys  were  now  cruising  back- 
wards and  forwards  in  the  Lagune,  close  in  front  of 
Venice,  like  ravenous  beasts  of  prey  which,  goaded  by 
hunger,  roam  restlessly  up  and  down  spying  out  where 

1  The  story  of  this  ÜDge's  conspiracy  has  furnished  materials  for  a 
tragedy  to  Byron  (1821),  Casimir  Delavinge  (1829),  and  Albert  Lindner 
(1875).  A  translation  of  the  story  is  given  by  Mr.  F.  Cohen  (Sir  F. 
Palgrave)  from  Sanuto's  Chronicle,  in  the  Appendix  to  the  play  in 
Byron's  works. 

2  Paganino  Doria,  one  of  the  greatest  of  Genoese  admirals,  took  and 
burnt  Parenzo,  a  town  on  the  west  coast  of  Istria,  on  the  nth  of  Au- 
gust, 1354.  At  this  period  the  rivalry  between  the  two  republics, 
Venice  and  Genoa,  in  their  commercial  relations  with  the  East  and  in 
the  Black  Sea,  was  especially  bitter,  and  they  were  almost  constantly 
at  war  with  each  other. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS.  5 

they  may  mOst  safely  pounce  upon  their  victims  ;  and 
both  people  and  seignory  were  panic-stricken  with 
fear.  All  the  male  population,  liable  to  military  ser- 
vice, and  everybody  who  could  lift  an  arm,  flew  to 
their  weapons  or  seized  an  oar.  The  harbour  of  Saint 
Nicholas  was  the  gathering-place  for  the  bands.  Ships 
and  trees  were  sunk,  and  chains  riveted  to  chains,  to 
lock  the  harbour-mouth  against  the  enemy.  Whilst 
there  was  heard  the  rattle  of  arms  and  the  wild  tumult 
of  preparation,  and  whilst  the  ponderous  masses  thun- 
dered down  into  the  foaming  sea,  on  the  Rialto  the 
agents  of  the  seignory  were  wiping  the  cold  sweat  from 
their  pale  brows,  and  with  troubled  countenances  and 
hoarse  voices  offering  almost  fabulous  percentage  for 
ready  money,  for  the  straitened  republic  was  in  want 
of  this  necessary  also.  Moreover,  it  was  determined 
by  the  inscrutable  decree  of  Providence  that  just  at 
this  period  of  extreme  distress  and  anxiety,  the  faithful 
shepherd  should  be  taken  away  from  his  troubled  flock. 
Completely  borne  down  by  the  burden  of  the  public 
calamity,  the  Doge  Andrea  Dandolo  1  died  ;  the  people 
called  him  the  "  dear  good  count  "  (il  caro  contino), 
because  he  was  always  cordial  and  kind,  and  never 
crossed  Saint  Mark's  Square  without  speaking  a  word 
of  comfort  to  those  in  need  of  good  advice,  or  giving 
a  few  sequins 2  to  those  who  were  in  want  of  money. 
And  as  every  blow  is  wont  to  fall  with  double  sharp- 
ness upon  those  who  are  discouraged  by  misfortune, 
when  at  other  times  they  would  hardly  have  felt  it  at 
all,  so  now,  when  the  people  heard  the  bells  of  Saint 

1  Andrea  Dandolo  (1307-1354),  Doge  from  1343  to  1354.  During 
his  reign  Venice  actively  extended  her  commercial  conquests  in  the 
Black  Sea  and  the  countries  around  the  Levant,  engaged  part  of  the 
time  in  active  hostilities  with  the  Genoese. 

2  See  note,  p.  63,  vol.  i. 


6  THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 

Mark's  proclain  in  solemn  muffled  tones  the  death  of 
their  Duke,  they  were  utterly  undone  with  sorrow  and 
grief.  Their  support,  their  hope,  was  now  gone,  and 
they  would  have  to  bend  their  necks  to  the  Genoese 
yoke,  they  cried,  in  despite  of  the  fact  that  Dandolo's 
loss  did  not  seem  to  have  any  very  counteractive  effect 
upon  the  progress  that  was  being  made  with  all  neces- 
sary warlike  preparations.  The  "dear  good  count" 
had  loved  to  live  in  peace  and  quietness,  preferring  to 
follow  the  wondrous  courses  of  the  stars  rather  than 
the  problematical  complications  of  state  policy  ;  he  un- 
derstood how  to  arrange  a  procession  on  Easter  Day 
better  than  how  to  lead  an  army. 

The  object  now  was  to  elect  a  Doge  who,  endowed  at 
one  and  the  same  time  with  the  valour  and  genius  of  a 
war  captain,  and  with  skill  in  statecraft,  should  save 
Venice,  now  tottering  on  her  foundations,  from  the 
threatening  power  of  her  bold  and  ever-bolder  enemy. 
But  when  the  senators  assembled  there  was  none  but 
what  had  a  gloomy  face,  hopeless  looks,  and  head  bent 
earthwards  and  resting  on  his  supporting  hand.  Where 
were  they  to  find  a  man  who  could  seize  the  unguided 
helm  and  direct  the  bark  of  the  state  aright  ?  At  last 
the  oldest  of  the  councillors,  called  Marino  Bodoeri, 
lifted  up  his  voice  and  said,  "You  will  not  find  him 
here  around  us,  or  amongst  us  ;  direct  your  eyes  to 
Avignon,  upon  Marino  Falieri,  whom  we  sent  to  con- 
gratulate Pope  Innocent  1  on  his  elevation  to  the  Papal 
dignity  ;  he  can  find  better  work  to  do  now  ;  he's  the 
man  for  us  ;  let  us  choose  him  Doge  to  stem  this  cur- 
rent of  adversity.  You  wTill  urge  by  way  of  objection 
that  he  is  now  almost  eighty  years  old,  that  his  hair 
and  beard  are  white  as  silver,  that  his  blithe  appearance, 


Pope  Innocent  VI.,  Pope  at  Avignon,  from  1352  to  1362. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS.  7 

fiery  eye,  and  the  deep  red  of  his  nose  and  cheeks  are 
to  be  ascribed,  as  his  traducers  maintain,  to  good  Cy- 
prus wine  rather  than  to  energy  of  character  ;  but  heed 
not  that.  Remember  what  conspicuous  bravery  this 
Marino  Falieri  showed  as  admiral  of  the  fleet  in  the 
Black  Sea,  and  bear  in  mind  the  great  services  which 
prevailed  with  the  Procurators  of  Saint  Mark  to  invest 
this  Falieri  with  the  rich  countship  of  Valdemarino." 
Thus  highly  did  Bodoeri  extol  Falieri's  virtues  ;  and  he 
had  a  ready  answer  for  all  objections,  so  that  at  length 
all  voices  were  unanimous  in  electing  Falieri.  Several, 
however,  still  continued  to  allude  to  his  hot,  passionate 
temper,  his  ambition,  and  his  self-will  ;  but  they  were 
met  with  the  reply  :  "  And  it  is  exactly  because  all 
these  have  gone  from  the  old  man,  that  we  choose  the 
grey-beard  Falieri  and  not  the  youth  Falieri."  And  these 
censuring  voices  were  completely  silenced  when  the 
people,  learning  upon  whom  the  choice  had  fallen, 
greeted  it  with  the  loudest  and  most  extravagant  dem- 
onstrations of  delight.  Do  we  not  know  that  in  such 
dangerous  times,  in  times  of  such  tension  and  unrest, 
any  resolution  that  really  is  a  resolution  is  accepted  as 
an  inspiration  from  Heaven  ?  Thus  it  came  to  pass 
that  the  "  dear  good  count  "  and  all  his  gentleness  and 
piety  were  forgotten,  and  every  one  cried,  "  By  Saint 
Mark,  this  Marino  ought  long  ago  to  have  been  our 
Doge,  and  then  we  should  not  have  yon  arrogant  Doria 
before  our  very  doors."  And  crippled  soldiers  painfully 
lilted  up  their  wounded  arms  and  cried,  "That  is  Fali- 
eri who  beat  the  Morbassan  1  —  the  valiant  captain 
whose  victorious  banners  waved  in  the  Black  Sea." 
Wherever  a  knot  of  people  gathered,  there  was  one 

1  Hoffmann  states  that  he  derived  his  materials  for  this  story  from 
Le  Bret's  "  History  of  Venice," — a  book  which,  unfortunately,  up  to 
the  time  of  going  to  press,  the  translator  had  not  been  able  to  obtain. 


8 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


amongst  them  telling  of  Falicri's  heroic  deeds  ;  ana,  as 
though  Doria  were  already  defeated,  the  air  rang  with 
wild  shouts  of  triumph.  An  additional  reason  for  this 
was  that  Nicolo  Pisani,1  who,  Heaven  knows  why  !  in- 
stead of  going  to  meet  Doria  with  his  fleet,  had  coolly 
sailed  away  to  Sardinia,2  was  now  returned.  Doria 
withdrew  from  the  Lagune  ;  and  what  was  really  due 
to  the  approach  of  Pisani's  fleet  was  ascribed  to  the 
formidable  name  of  Marino  Falieri.  Then  the  people 
and  the  seignory  were  seized  by  a  kind  of  frantic  ec- 
stasy that  such  an  auspicious  choice  had  been  made  ; 
and  as  an  uncommon  way  of  testifying  the  same,  it  was 
determined  to  welcome  the  newly  elected  Doge  as  if  he 
were  a  messenger  from  heaven  bringing  honour,  vic- 
tory, and  abundance  of  riches.  Twelve  nobles,  each 
accompanied  by  a  numerous  retinue  in  rich  dresses, 
had  been  sent  by  the  Seignory  to  Verona,  where  the 
ambassadors  of  the  Republic  were  again  to  announce 
to  Falieri,  on  his  arrival,  with  all  due  ceremony,  his 
elevation  to  the  supreme  office  in  the  state.  Then  fif- 
teen richly  decorated  vessels  of  state,  equipped  by  the 
Podesta3  of  Chioggia,  and  under  the  command  of  his 
own  son  Taddeo  Giustiniani,  took  the  Doge  and  his  at- 
tendant company  on  board  at  Chiozza  ;  and  now  they 
moved  on  like  the  triumphal  procession  of  a  most 

1  Nicolo  Pisani,  a  very  active  naval  commander  in  the  third  war  with 
Genoa  (1350-1355),  fought  battles  in  the  Bosphorus,  off  Sardinia,  and 
at  Porto  Longo,  near  Modon  (Greece). 

2  Sardinia  was  for  many,  many  years  an  object  of  contention  between 
Pisa,  Genoa,  and  the  Aragonese.  At  this  time  (1354)  it  belonged  to  the 
latter,  but  the  Genoese  were  constantly  endeavouring  to  stir  up  the  peo 
pie  of  the  island  to  revolt  against  the  Aragonese  ;  hence  we  may  see  a 
reason  for  Pisani's  being  in  Sardinian  waters. 

3  Equivalent  to  "  Governor."  Chioggia  was  an  old  town  thirty  miles 
south  of  Venice,  at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Lagune.  Chiozza = 
Chioggia. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOG  ESS. 


9 


mighty  and  victorious  monarch  to  St.  Clement's,  where 
the  Bucentaur  1  was  awaiting  the  Doge. 

At  this  very  moment,  namely,  when  Marino  Falieri 
was  about  to  set  foot  on  board  the  Bucentaur, — and  that 
was  on  the  evening  of  the  3d  of  October  about  sunset 
— a  poor  unfortunate  man  lay  stretched  at  full  length 
on  the  hard  marble  pavement  in  front  of  the  Custom- 
house. A  few  rags  of  striped  linen,  of  a  colour  now  no 
longer  recognisable,  the  remains  of  what  apparently 
had  once  been  a  sailor's  dress,  such  as  was  worn  by  the 
very  poorest  of  the  people — porters  and  assistant  oars- 
men, hung  about  his  lean  starved  body.  There  was 
not  a  trace  of  a  shirt  to  be  seen,  except  the  poor  fellow's 
own  skin,  which  peeped  through  his  rags  almost  every- 
where, and  was  so  white  and  delicate  that  the  very 
noblest  need  not  have  been  shy  or  ashamed  of  it. 
Accordingly,  his  leanness  only  served  to  display  more 
fully  the  perfect  proportions  of  his  well-knit  frame. 
A  careful  scrutiny  of  the  unfortunate's  light-chestnut 
hair,  now  hanging  all  tangled  and  dishevelled  about  his 
exquisitely  beautiful  forehead,  his  blue  eyes  dimmed 
with  extreme  misery,  his  Roman  nose,  his  fine  formed 
lips — he  seemed  to  be  not  more  than  twenty  years  old 
at  the  most — inevitably  suggested  that  he  was  of  good 
birth,  and  had  by  some  adverse  turn  of  fortune  been 
thrown  amongst  the  meanest  classes  of  the  people. 

As  remarked,  the  youth  lay  in  front  of  the  pillars  of 
the  Custom-house,  his  head  resting  on  his  right  arm, 
and  his  eyes  riveted  in  a  vacant  stare  upon  the  sea, 

1  The  state  barge  of  Venice  ;  the  word  means  ''little  golden  boat." 
Pope  Alexander  III.  bestowed  upon  the  Doge  Sebastian  Ziani,  for  his 
victory  over  Frederick  Barbarossa  near  Parenzo  on  Ascension  Day,  1 177, 
a  ring  in  token  of  the  suzerainty  of  Venice  over  the  Adriatic.  From 
this  time  dates  the  observance  of  the  annual  ceremony  of  the  Doge's 
marrying  the  Adriatic  from  the  Bucentaur. 


IO 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


without  movement  or  change  of  posture.  An  observer 
might  well  have  fancied  that  he  was  devoid  of  life,  or 
that  death  had  fixed  him  there  whilst  turning  him  into 
an  image  of  stone,  had  not  a  deep  sigh  escaped  him 
from  time  to  time,  as  if  wrung  from  him  by  unutterable 
pain.  And  they  were  in  fact  occasioned  by  the  pain  of 
his  left  arm,  which  had  apparently  been  seriously 
wounded,  and  was  lying  stretched  out  on  the  pavement, 
wrapped  up  in  bloody  rags. 

All  labour  had  ceased  ;  the  hum  of  trade  was  no 
longer  heard  ;  all  Venice,  in  thousands  of  boats  and 
gondolas,  was  gone  out  to  meet  the  much-lauded  Fali- 
eri.  Hence  it  was  that  the  unhappy  youth  was  sighing 
away  his  pain  in  utter  helplessness.  But  just  as  his 
weary  head  fell  back  upon  the  pavement,  and  he 
seemed  on  the  point  of  fainting,  a  hoarse  and  very 
querulous  voice  cried  several  times  in  succession,  "An- 
tonio, my  dear  Antonio."  At  length  Antonio  painfully 
raised  himself  partly  up  ;  and,  turning  his  head  towards 
th*j  pillars  of  the  Custom-house,  whence  the  voice 
seemed  to  proceed,  he  replied  very  faintly,  and  in  a 
scarce  intelligible  voice,  "  Who  is  calling  me  ?  Who 
has  come  to  cast  my  dead  body  into  the  sea,  for  it  will 
soon  be  all  over  with  me."  Then  a  little  shrivelled 
wrinkled  crone  came  up  panting  and  coughing,  hob- 
bling along  by  the  aid  of  her  staff  ;  she  approached  the 
wounded  youth,  and  squatting  down  beside  him,  she 
burst  out  into  a  most  repulsive  chuckling  and  laughing. 
"  You  foolish  child,  you  foolish  child,"  wmispered  the 
old  woman,  "are  you  going  to  perish  here — will  you 
stay  here  to  die,  while  a  golden  fortune  is  waiting  for 
you  ?  Look  yonder,  look  yonder  at  yon  blazing  fire  in 
the  west  ;  there  are  sequins  for  you  !  But  you  must 
eat,  dear  Antonio,  eat  and  drink  ;  for  it's  only  hunger 
v-  hich  has  made  you  fall  down  here  on  this  cold  pave- 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


1 1 


ment.  Your  arm  is  now  quite  well  again,  yes,  that  it 
is."  Antonio  recognised  in  the  old  crone  the  singular 
beggar-woman  who  was  generally  to  be  seen  on  the 
steps  of  the  Franciscan  Church,  chuckling  to  herself 
and  laughing,  and  soliciting  alms  from  the  worshippers  ; 
he  himself,  urged  by  some  inward  inexplicable  propen- 
sity, had  often  thrown  her  a  hard-earned  penny,  which 
he  had  not  had  to  spare.  "  Leave  me,  leave  me  in 
peace,  you  insane  old  woman,"  he  said  ;  "  but  you  are 
right,  it  is  hunger  more  than  my  wound  which  has 
made  me  weak  and  miserable  ;  for  three  days  I  have 
not  earned  a  farthing.  I  wanted  to  go  over  to  the 
monastery  1  and  see  if  I  could  get  a  spoonful  or  two  of 
the  soup  that  is  made  for  invalids  ;  but  all  my  com- 
panions have  gone  ;  there  is  not  one  to  have  compas- 
sion upon  me  and  take  me  in  his  barca  ;2  and  now  I 
have  fallen  down  here,  and  shall,  I  expect,  never  get  up 
again."  "  Hi  !  hi !  hi  !  hi  !  "  chuckled  the  old  woman  ; 
"  why  do  you  begin  to  despair  so  soon  ?  Why  lose 
heart  so  quickly  ?  You  are  thirsty  and  hungry,  but  I 
can  help  you.  Here  are  a  few  fine  dried  fish  which  I 
bought  only  to-day  in  the  Mint  ;  here  is  lemon-juice  and 
a  piece  of  nice  white  bread  ;  eat,  my  son  ;  and  then  we 
will  look  at  the  wounded  arm."  And  the  old  woman 
proceeded  to  bring  forth  fish,  bread,  and  lemon  juice 
from  the  bag  which  hung  like  a  hood  down  her  back, 

1  San  Giorgio  Maggiore.  Venice,  as  everybody  knows,  is  not  built 
upon  the  mainland  but  upon  islands.  The  two  largest,  whose  greatest 
length  is  from  east  to  west,  are  divided  by  the  Grand  Canal,  upon 
which  are  situated  most  of  the  palaces  and  important  public  buildings. 
South  of  these  two  principal  islands,  and  separated  from  them  by  the 
Giudecca  Canal,  are  the  islands  of  Giudecca  and  San  Giorgio  Maggiore 
close  together,  the  latter  on  the  east  and  opposite  the  south  entrance  to 
the  Grand  Canal,  beyond  which  are  the  Piazetta  and  St.  Mark's  Square. 

2  This  is  larger  than  the  gondola,  and  also  more  modern  ;  it  is  cal- 
culated to  hold  six  persons,  and  even  luggage. 


12 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


and  also  projected  right  above  her  bent  head.  As  soon 
as  Antonio  had  moistened  his  parched  and  burning  lips 
with  the  cool  drink,  he  felt  the  pangs  of  hunger  return 
with  double  fury,  and  he  greedily  devoured  the  bread 
and  the  fish. 

Meanwhile  the  old  woman  was  busy  unwrapping 
the  rags  from  his  wounded  arm,  and  it  was  found  that, 
though  it  was  badly  crushed,  the  wound  was  progress- 
ing favourably  towards  healing.  The  old  woman 
took  a  salve  out  of  a  little  box  and  warmed  it  with 
the  breath  of  her  mouth,  and  as  she  rubbed  it  on  the 
wound  she  asked,  "But  who  then  has  given  you  such 
a  nasty  blow,  my  poor  boy?"  Antonio  was  so  re- 
freshed and  charged  anew  with  vital  energy  that  he 
had  raised  himself  completely  up  ;  his  eyes  flashed,  and 
he  shook  his  doubled  fist  above  his  head,  crying,  "  Oh  ! 
that  rascal  Nicolo  ;  he  tried  to  maim  me,  because  he 
envies  me  every  wretched  penny  that  any  generous  hand 
bestows  upon  me.  You  know,  old  dame,  that  I  barely 
managed  to  hold  body  and  soul  together  by  helping  to 
carry  bales  of  goods  from  ships  and  freight-boats  to 
the  depot  of  the  Germans,  the  so-called  Fontego  1 — of 

course  you  know7  the  building  "   Directly  Antonio 

uttered  the  word  Fontego,  the  old  woman  began  to 
chuckle  and  laugh  most  abominably,  and  to  mumble, 
"  Fontego — Fontego — Fontego."  "  Have  done  with 
your  insane  laughing  if  I  am  to  go  on  with  my  story," 
added  Antonio  angrily.  At  once  the  old  woman  grew 
quiet,  and  Antonio  continued,  "  after  a  time  I  saved  a 
little  bit  of  money,  and  bought  a  new  jerkin,  so  that 
I  looked  quite  fine  ;  and  then  I  got  enrolled  amongst 

1  The  Fondaco  de'  Tedeschi,  erected  in  1506,  on  the  Grand  Canal. 
It  was  formerly  decorated  externally  with  paintings  by  Titian  and  his 
pupils.  At  first  it  served  as  a  depSt  for  the  wares  of  German  merchants 
(whence  its  name),  but  is  now  used  as  a  custom-house. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


13 


the  gondoliers.  As  I  was  always  in  a  blithe  humour, 
worked  hard,  and  knew  a  great  many  good  songs,  I 
soon  earned  a  good  deal  more  than  the  rest.  This, 
however,  awakened  my  comrades'  envy.  They  black- 
ened my  character  to  my  master,  so  that  he  turned 
me  adrift  ;  and  everywhere  where  I  went  or  where  I 
stood  they  cried  after  me,  1  German  cur !  Cursed 
heretic  !  '  Three  days  ago,  as  I  was  helping  to  unload 
a  boat  near  St.  Sebastian,  they  fell  upon  me  with 
sticks  and  stones.  I  defended  myself  stoutly,  but  that 
malicious  Nicolo  dealt  me  a  blow  with  his  oar,  which 
grazed  my  head  and  severely  injured  my  arm,  and 
knocked  me  on  the  ground.  Ay,  you've  given  me  a 
good  meal,  old  woman,  and  I  am  sure  I  feel  that  your 
salve  has  done  my  arm  a  world  of  good.  See,  I  can 
already  move  it  easily — now  I  shall  be  able  to  row 
bravely  again."  Antonio  had  risen  up  from  the 
ground,  and  was  swinging  his  arm  violently  backwards 
and  forwards,  but  the  old  woman  again  fell  to  chuck- 
ling and  laughing  loudly,  whilst  she  hobbled  round 
about  him  in  the  most  extraordinary  fashion — dancing 
with  short  tripping  steps  as  it  were — and  she  cried, 
"  My  son,  my  good  boy,  my  good  lad — row  on  bravely 
■ — he  is  coming — he  is  coming.  The  gold  is  shining 
red  in  the  bright  flames.  Row  on  stoutly,  row  on  ; 
but  only  once  more,  only  once  more  ;  and  then  never 
again." 

But  Antonio  was  not  paying  the  slightest  heed  to 
the  old  woman's  words,  for  the  most  splendid  of  spec- 
tacles was  unfolding  itself  before  his  eyes.  The  Bu- 
centaur,  with  the  Lion  of  the  Adriatic  on  her  fluttering 
standard,  was  coming  along  from  St.  Clement's  to  the 
measured  stroke  of  the  oars  like  a  mighty  winged 
golden  swan.  Surrounded  by  innumerable  barcas  and 
gondolas,  and  with  her  head  proudly  and  boldly  raised, 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


she  appeared  like  a  princess  commanding  a  triumphing 
army,  that  had  emerged  from  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
wearing  bright  and  gaily  decked  helmets.  The  even- 
ing sun  was  sending  down  his  fiery  rays  upon  the  sea 
and  upon  Venice,  so  that  everything  appeared  to  have 
been  plunged  into  a  bath  of  blazing  fire  ;  but  whilst 
Antonio,  completely  forgetful  of  all  his  unhappiness, 
was  standing  gazing  with  wonder  and  delight,  the 
gleams  of  the  sun  grew  more  bloody  and  more  bloody. 
The  wind  whistled  shrilly  and  harshly,  and  a  hollow 
threatening  echo  came  rolling  in  from  the  open  sea 
outside.  Down  burst  the  storm  in  the  midst  of  black 
clouds,  and  enshrouded  all  in  thick  darkness,  whilst 
the  waves  rose  higher  and  higher,  pouring  in  from  the 
thundering  sea  like  foaming  hissing  monsters,  threaten- 
ing to  engulf  everything.  The  gondolas  and  barcas 
were  driven  in  all  directions  like  scattered  feathers. 
The  Bucentaur,  unable  to  resist  the  storm  owing  to  its 
flat  bottom,  was  yawing  from  side  to  side.  Instead  of 
the  jubilant  notes  of  trumpets  and  cornets,  there  was 
heard  through  the  storm  the  anxious  cries  of  those  in 
distress. 

Antonio  gazed  upon  the  scene  like  one  stupefied, 
without  sense  and  motion.  But  then  there  came  a 
rattling  of  chains  immediately  in  front  of  him  ;  he 
looked  down,  and  saw  a  little  canoe,  which  wTas 
chained  to  the  wall,  and  was  being  tossed  up  and 
down  by  the  waves  ;  and  a  thought  entered  his  mind 
like  a  flash  of  lightning.  He  leaped  into  the  canoe, 
unfastened  it,  seized  the  oar  which  he  found  in  it,  and 
pushed  out  boldly  and  confidently  into  the  sea,  directly 
towards  the  Bucentaur.  The  nearer  he  came  to  it  the 
more  distinctly  could  he  hear  shouts  for  help.  "  Here, 
here,  come  here — save  the  Doge,  save  the  Doge."  It 
is  well  known  that  little  fisher-canoes  are  safer  and 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


i5 


better  to  manage  in  the  Lagune  when  it  is  stormy 
than  are  larger  boats ;  and  accordingly  these  little 
craft  were  hastening  from  all  sides  to  the  rescue  of 
Marino  Falieri's  invaluable  person.  But  it  is  an 
invariable  principle  in  life  that  the  Eternal  Power 
reserves  every  bold  deed  as  a  brilliant  success  to  the 
one  specially  chosen  for  it,  and  hence  all  others  have 
all  their  pains  for  nothing.  And  as  on  this  occasion 
it  was  poor  Antonio  who  was  destined  to  achieve  the 
rescue  of  the  newly  elected  Doge,  he  alone  succeeded 
in  working  his  way  on  to  the  Bucentaur  in  his  little 
insignificant  fisher-canoe.  Old  Marino  Falieri,  familiar 
with  such  dangers,  stepped  firmly,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  from  the  sumptuous  but  treacherous  Bu- 
centaur into  poor  Antonio's  little  craft,  which,  gliding 
smoothly  over  the  raging  waves  like  a  dolphin,  brought 
him  in  a  few  minutes  to  St.  Mark's  Square.  The  old 
man,  his  clothing  saturated  with  wet,  and  with  large 
drops  of  sea-spray  in  his  grey  beard,  was  conducted 
into  the  church,  where  the  nobles  with  blanched  faces 
concluded  the  ceremonies  connected  with  the  Doge's 
public  entry.  But  the  people,  as  well  as  the  seignory, 
confounded  by  this  unfortunate  contretemps,  to  which 
was  also  added  the  fact  that  the  Doge,  in  the  hurry 
and  confusion,  had  been  led  between  the  two  columns 
where  common  malefactors  were  generally  executed, 
grew  silent  in  the  midst  of  their  triumph,  and  thus  the 
day  that  had  begun  in  festive  fashion  ended  in  gloom 
and  sadness. 

Nobody  seemed  to  think  about  the  Doge's  rescuer  ; 
nor  did  Antonio  himself  think  about  it,  for  he  was 
lying  in  the  peristyle  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  half  dead 
with  fatigue,  and  fainting  with  the  pain  caused  by  his 
wound,  which  had  again  burst  open.  He  was  there- 
fore all  the  more  surprised  when  just  before  midnight 


i6 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


a  Ducal  halberdier  took  him  by  the  shoulders,  saying, 
"  Come  along,  friend,"  and  led  him  into  the  palace, 
where  he  pushed  him  into  the  Duke's  chamber.  The 
old  man  came  to  meet  him  with  a  kindly  smile,  and 
said,  pointing  to  a  couple  of  purses  lying  on  the  table, 
"You  have  borne  yourself  bravely,  my  son.  Here; 
take  these  three  thousand  sequins,  and  if  you  want 
more  ask  for  them  ;  but  have  the  goodness  never  to 
come  into  my  presence  again."  As  he  said  these  last 
words  the  old  man's  eyes  flashed  with  fire,  and  the  tip 
of  his  nose  grew  a  darker  red.  Antonio  could  not 
fathom  the  old  man's  mind ;  he  did  not,  however, 
trouble  himself  overmuch  about  it,  but  with  some  little 
difficulty  took  up  the  purses,  which  he  believed  he  had 
honestly  and  rightly  earned. 

Next  morning  old  Falieri,  conspicuous  in  the  splen- 
dours of  his  newly  acquired  dignity,  stood  in  one  of  the 
lofty  bay  windows  of  the  palace,  watching  the  bustling 
scene  below,  where  the  people  were  busy  engaged  in 
practising  all  kinds  of  weapons,  when  Bodoeri,  who 
from  the  days  when  he  was  a  youth  had  enjoyed  the 
intimate  and  unchangeable  friendship  of  the  Doge, 
entered  the  apartment.  As,  however,  the  Doge  was 
quite  wrapped  up  in  himself  and  his  dignity,  and  did 
not  appear  to  notice  his  entrance,  Bodoeri  clapped  his 
hands  together  and  cried  with  a  loud  laugh,  "  Come, 
Falieri,  what  are  all  these  sublime  thoughts  that  are 
being  hatched  and  nourished  in  your  mind  since  you 
first  put  the  Doge's  bent  bonnet  on  ?"  Falieri,  coming 
to  himself  like  one  awakening  from  a  dream,  stepped 
forward  to  meet  his  old  friend  with  an  air  of  forced 
amiability.  He  felt  that  he  really  owed  his  bonnet  to 
Bodoeri,  and  the  words  of  the  latter  seemed  to  be  a 
reminder  of  the  fact.  But  since  every  obligation 
weighed  like  a  burden  upon  Falieri's  proud  ambitious 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


17 


spirit,  and  he  could  not  dismiss  the  oldest  member  of 
the  Council,  and  his  tried  friend  to  boot,  as  he  had  dis- 
missed poor  Antonio,  he  constrained  himself  to  utter  a 
few  words  of  thanks,  and  immediately  began  to  speak 
of  the  measures  to  be  adopted  to  meet  their  enemy, 
who  was  now  developing  so  great  an  activity  in  every 
direction.  Bodoeri  interrupted  him  and  said,  cunningly 
smiling,  "  That,  and  all  else  that  the  state  demands  of 
you,  we  will  maturely  weigh  and  consider  an  hour  or 
two  hence  in  a  full  meeting  of  the  Great  Council.  I 
have  not  come  to  you  thus  early  in  order  to  invent  a 
plan  for  defeating  yon  presumptuous  Doria  or  bringing 
to  reason  Louis1  the  Hungarian,  who  is  again  setting 
his  longing  eyes  upon  our  Dalmatian  seaports.  No, 
Marino,  I  was  thinking  solely  about  you,  and  about 
what  you  perhaps  would  not  guess — your  marriage." 
"  How  came  you  to  think  of  such  a  thing  as  that  ?  "  re- 
plied the  Doge,  greatly  annoyed  ;  and  rising  to  his  feet, 
he  turned  his  back  upon  Bodoeri  and  looked  out  of  the 
window.  "  It's  a  long  time  to  Ascension  Day.  By  that 
time  I  hope  the  enemy  will  be  routed,  and  that  victory, 
honour,  additional  riches,  and  a  wider  extension  of 
power  will  have  been  won  for  the  sea-born  lion  of  the 
Adriatic.  The  chaste  bride  shall  find  her  bridegroom 
worthy  of  her."  "Pshaw!  pshaw!"  interrupted  Bodo- 
eri, impatiently;  "you  are  talking  about  that  memo- 
rable ceremony  on  Ascension  Day,  when  you  will  throw 
the  gold  ring  from  the  Bucentaur  into  the  waves  under 
the  impression  that  you  are  wedding  the  Adriatic  Sea. 
But  do  you  not  know, — you,  Marino,  you,  kinsman  to 
the  sea, — of  any  other  bride  than  the  cold,  damp, 

1  Louis  I.  the  Great  of  Hungary  (1342-1382).  The  Dalmatian  and 
Istrian  sea-board  formed  a  fruitful  source  of  contention  between  the 
Venetians  and  Hungary,  Louis  proving  a  very  formidable  opponent  to 
the  Republic. 

Vol.  II. — 2 


iS 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


treacherous  element  which  you  delude  yourself  into 
the  belief  that  you  rule,  and  which  only  yesterday  re- 
volted against  you  in  such  dangerous  fashion  ?  Marry, 
how  can  you  fancy  lying  in  the  arms  of  such  a  bride — 
of  such  a  wild,  wayward  thing?  Why  when  you  only 
just  skimmed  her  lips  as  you  rode  along  in  the  Bucen- 
taur  she  at  once  began  to  rage  and  storm.  Would  an 
entire  Vesuvius  of  fiery  passion  suffice  to  warm  the  icy 
bosom  of  such  a  false  bride  as  that  ?  Continually  faith- 
less, she  is  wedded  time  after  time,  nor  does  she  receive 
the  ring  as  a  treasured  symbol  of  love,  but  she  extorts  it 
as  a  tribute  from  a  slave  ?  No,  Marino,  I  was  thinking 
of  your  marriage  to  the  most  beautiful  child  of  the 
earth  than  can  be  found."  "You  are  prating  utter  non- 
sense, utter  nonsense,  I  tell  you,  old  man,"  murmured 
Falieri  without  turning  away  from  the  window.  "  I,  a 
grey-haired  old  man,  eighty  years  of  age,  burdened 
with  toil  and  trouble,  who  have  never  been  married, 

and  now  hardly  capable  of  loving"   "  Stop,"  cried 

Bodoeri,  "  don't  slander  yourself.  Does  not  the  Winter, 
however  rough  and  cold  he  may  be,  at  last  stretch  out 
his  longing  arms  towards  the  beautiful  goddess  who 
comes  to  meet  him  borne  by  balmy  western  winds  ? 
And  when  he  presses  her  to  his  benumbed  bosom, 
when  a  gentle  glow  pervades  his  veins,  where  then  is 
his  ice  and  his  snow  ?  You  say  you  are  eighty  years  old  ; 
that  is  true  ;  but  do  you  measure  old  age  then  by  years 
merely  ?  Don't  you  carry  your  head  as  erect  and  walk 
with  as  firm  a  step  as  you  did  forty  summers  ago  ?  Or 
do  you  perhaps  feel  that  your  strength  is  failing  you, 
that  you  must  carry  a  lighter  sword,  that  you  grow  faint 
when  you  walk  fast,  or  get  short  of  breath  when  you 
ascend  the  steps  of  the  Ducal  Palace?"  "No,  by 
Heaven,  no,"  broke  in  Falieri  upon  his  friend,  as  he 
turned  away  from  the  window  with  an  abrupt  passion- 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


19 


ate  movement  and  approached  him,  "  no,  I  feel  no 
traces  of  age  upon  me."  "Well  then,"  continued 
Bodoeri,  '  take  deep  draughts  in  your  old  age  of  all 
the  delights  of  earth  which  are  now  destined  for  you. 
Elevate  the  woman  whom  I  have  chosen  for  you  to  be 
your  Dogess  ;  and  then  all  the  ladies  of  Venice  will  be 
constrained  to  admit  that  she  stands  first  of  all  in 
beauty  and  in  virtue,  even  as  the  Venetians  recognise 
in  you  their  captain  in  valour,  intellect,  and  power." 

Bodoeri  now  began  to  sketch  the  picture  of  a  beauti- 
ful woman,  and  in  doing  so  he  knew  how  to  mix  his 
colours  so  cleverly,  and  lay  them  on  with  so  much 
vigour  and  effect,  that  old  Falieri's  eyes  began  to 
sparkle,  and  his  face  grew  redder  and  redder,  whilst  he 
puckered  up  his  mouth  and  smacked  his  lips  as  if  he 
were  draining  sundry  glasses  of  fiery  Syracuse.  "  But 
who  is  this  paragon  of  loveliness  of  whom  you  are 
speaking?"  said  he  at  last  with  a  smirk.  "I  mean 
nobody  else  but  my  dear  niece — it's  she  I  mean," 
replied  Bodoeri.  "What!  your  niece?"  interrupted 
Falieri.  "Why,  she  was  married  to  Bertuccio  Nenolo 
when  I  was  Podesta  of  Treviso."  "  Oh  !  you  are  think- 
ing about  my  niece  Francesca,"  continued  Bodoeri, 
"but  it  is  her  sweet  daughter  whom  I  intend  for  you. 
You  know  how  rude,  rough  Nenolo  was  enticed  to  the 
wars  and  drowned  at  sea.  Francesca  buried  her  pain 
and  grief  in  a  Roman  nunnery,  and  so  I  had  little 
Annunciata  brought  up  in  strict  seclusion  at  my  villa 
in  Treviso"   "  What !"  cried  Falieri,  again  impa- 
tiently interrupting  the  old  man,  "you  mean  me  to  raise 
your  niece's  daughter  to  the  dignity  of  Dogess  ?  How 
long  is  it  since  Nenolo  was  married  ?  Annunciata  must 
be  a  child — at  the  most  only  ten  years  old.  When  I 
was  Podesta  in  Treviso,  Nenolo  had  not  even  thought 
of  marrying,  and  that's  "   "  Twenty-five  years  ago," 


20 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


interposed  Bodoeri,  laughing  ;  "come,  you  are  getting 
all  at  sea  with  your  memory  of  the  flight  of  time,  it 
goes  so  rapidly  with  you.  Annunciata  is  a  maiden 
of  nineteen,  beautiful  as  the  sun,  modest,  submissive, 
inexperienced  in  love,  for  she  has  hardly  ever  seen  a 
man.  She  will  cling  to  you  with  childlike  affection 
and  unassuming  devotion."  "  I  will  see  her,  I  will  see 
her,"  exclaimed  the  Doge,  whose  eyes  again  beheld  the 
picture  of  the  beautiful  Annunciata  which  Bodoeri  had 
sketched. 

His  desire  was  gratified  the  self-same  day  ;  for  im- 
mediately he  got  back  to  his  own  apartments  from  the 
meeting  of  the  Great  Council,  the  crafty  Bodoeri,  who 
no  doubt  had  many  reasons  for  wishing  to  see  his  niece 
Dogess  at  Falieri's  side,  brought  the  lovely  Annunciata 
to  him  secretly.  Now,  when  old  Falieri  saw  the  angelic 
maiden,  he  was  quite  taken  aback  by  her  wonderful 
beauty,  and  was  scarcely  able  to  stammer  out  a  few  un- 
intelligible words  as  he  sued  for  her  hand.  Annunciata, 
no  doubt  well  instructed  by  Bodoeri  beforehand,  fell 
upon  her  knees  before  the  princely  old  man,  her  cheeks 
flushing  crimson.  She  grasped  his  hand  and  pressed 
it  to  her  lips,  softly  whispering,  "  O  sir,  will  you  indeed 
honour  me  by  raising  me  to  a  place  at  your  side  on 
your  princely  throne  ?  Oh  !  then  I  will  reverence  you 
from  the  depths  of  my  soul,  and  will  continue  your 
faithful  handmaiden  as  long  as  I  have  breath."  Old 
Falieri  was  beside  himself  with  happiness  and  delight. 
As  Annunciata  took  his  hand  he  felt  a  convulsive  throb 
in  every  limb  ;  and  then  his  head  and  all  his  body 
began  to  tremble  and  totter  to  such  a  degree  that  he 
had  to  sink  hurriedly  into  his  great  arm-chair.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to  refute  Bodoeri's  good 
opinion  as  to  the  strength  and  toughness  of  his  eighty 
summers.    Bodoeri,  in  fact,  could  not  keep  back  the 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


21 


peculiar  smile  that  darted  across  his  lips  ;  innocent,  un- 
sophisticated Annunciata  observed  nothing  ;  and  hap- 
pily no  one  else  was  present.  Finally  it  was  resolved 
for  some  reason — either  because  old  Falieri  felt  in  what 
an  uncomfortable  position  he  would  appear  in  the  eyes 
of  the  people  as  the  betrothed  of  a  maiden  of  nineteen, 
or  because  it  occurred  to  him  as  a  sort  of  presentiment 
that  the  Venetians,  who  were  so  prone  to  mockery, 
ought  not  to  be  so  directly  challenged  to  indulge  in  it, 
or  because  he  deemed  it  better  to  say  nothing  at  all 
about  the  critical  period  of  betrothal — at  any  rate,  it 
was  resolved,  with  Bodoeri's  consent,  that  the  marriage 
should  be  celebrated  with  the  greatest  secrecy,  and 
that  then  some  days  later  the  Dogess  should  be  intro- 
duced to  the  seignory  and  the  people  as  if  she  had  been 
some  time  married  to  Falieri,  and  had  just  arrived  from 
Treviso,  where  she  had  been  staying  during  Falieri's 
mission  to  Avignon. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  eyes  upon  yon  neatly  dressed 
handsome  youth  who  is  going  up  and  down  the  Rialto 
with  his  purse  of  sequins  in  his  hand,  conversing  with 
Jews,  Turks,  Armenians,  Greeks.1  He  turns  away  his 
face  with  a  frown,  walks  on  further,  stands  still,  turns 
round,  and  ultimately  has  himself  rowed  by  a  gondolier 
to  St.  Mark's  Square.  There  he  walks  up  and  down 
with  uncertain  hesitating  steps,  his  arms  folded  and  his 
eyes  bent  upon  the  ground  ;  nor  does  he  observe,  or 
even  have  any  idea,  that  all  the  whispering  and  low 
coughing  from  various  windows  and  various  richly 
draped  balconies  are  love-signals  which  are  meant  for 

1  At  this  epoch  Venice  was  the  mart  and  mediatory  between  the 
West  and  the  East,  the  commercial  riches  of  the  latter  having  been 
opened  up  to  the  feudal  civilisation  of  Europe,  chiefly  through  the 
Crusades.  Hence  the  cosmopolitan  character  of  the  merchants  on  the 
Rialto. 


22 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


him.  Who  would  have  easily  recognised  in  this  youth 
the  same  Antonio  who  a  few  days  before  had  lain  on 
the  marble  pavement  in  front  of  the  Custom-house, 
poor,  ragged,  and  miserable  ?  "  My  dear  boy !  My 
dear  golden  boy,  Antonio,  good  day,  good  day!  "  Thus 
he  was  greeted  by  the  old  beggar-woman,  who  sat  on 
the  steps  leading  to  St.  Mark's  Church,  and  whom  he 
was  going  past  without  observing.  Turning  abruptly 
round,  he  recognised  the  old  woman,  and,  dipping  his 
hand  into  his  purse,  took  out  a  handful  of  sequins  with 
the  intention  of  throwing  them  to  her.  "  Oh  !  keep 
your  gold  in  your  purse,"  chuckled  and  laughed  the 
old  woman  ;  "  what  should  I  do  with  your  money  ?  am 
I  not  rich  enough  ?  But  if  you  want  to  do  me  a  kind- 
ness, get  me  a  new  hood  made,  for  this  which  I  am  now 
wearing  is  no  longer  any  protection  against  wind  and 
weather.  Yes,  please  get  me  one,  my  dear  boy,  my 
dear  golden  boy, — but  keep  away  from  the  Fontego, — 
keep  away  from  the  Fontego."  Antonio  stared  into 
the  old  woman's  pale  yellow  face,  the  deep  wrinkles  in 
which  twitched  convulsively  in  a  strange  awe-inspiring 
way.  And  when  she  clapped  her  lean  bony  hands  to- 
gether so  that  the  joints  cracked,  and  continued  her 
disagreeable  laugh,  and  went  on  repeating  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  "  Keep  away  from  the  Fontego,"  Antonio  cried, 
"  Can  you  not  have  done  with  that  mad  insane  non- 
sense, you  old  witch  ?  " 

As  Antonio  uttered  this  word,  the  old  woman,  as  if 
struck  by  a  lightning-flash,  came  rolling  down  the  high 
marble  steps  like  a  ball.  Antonio  leapt  forward  and 
grasped  her  by  both  hands,  and  so  prevented  her  from 
falling  heavily.  "  O  my  good  lad,  my  good  lad,"  said 
the  old  crone  in  a  low,  querulous  voice,  "  what  a  hideous 
word  that  was  whicli  you  uttered.  Kill  me  rather  than 
repeat  that  word  to  me  again.    Oh  !  you  don't  know 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


23 


how  deeply  you  have  cut  me  to  the  heart,  me — who 
have  such  a  true  affection  for  you — no,  you  don't 

know"          Abruptly  breaking  off,  she  wrapped  up  her 

head  in  the  dark  brown  cloth  flaps  which  covered  her 
shoulders  like  a  short  mantle,  and  sighed  and  moaned 
as  if  suffering  unspeakable  pain.  Antonio  felt  his 
heart  strangely  moved  ;  lifting  up  the  old  woman,  he 
carried  her  up  into  the  vestibule  of  the  church,  and  set 
her  down  upon  one  of  the  marble  benches  which  were 
there.  "  You  have  been  kind  to  me,  old  woman,"  he 
began,  after  he  had  liberated  her  head  from  the  ugly 
cloth  flaps,  "you  have  been  kind  to  me,  since  it  is  to 
you  that  I  really  owe  all  my  prosperity  ;  for  if  you  had 
not  stood  by  me  in  the  hour  of  need,  I  should  long  ere 
this  have  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  nor  should  I 
have  rescued  the  old  Doge,  and  received  these  good 
sequins.  But  even  if  you  had  not  shown  that  kindness 
to  me,  I  yet  feel  that  I  should  have  a  special  liking  for 
you  as  long  as  I  live,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  your  in- 
sane behaviour — chuckling  and  laughing  so  horribly — 
strikes  my  heart  with  awe.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  old 
dame,  even  when  I  had  hard  work  to  get  a  living  by 
carrying  merchandise  and  rowing,  I  always  felt  as  if  I 
must  work  still  harder  that  I  might  have  a  few  pence 
to  give  you."  "  O  son  of  my  heart,  my  golden  Tonino," 
cried  the  old  woman,  raising  her  shrivelled  arms  above 
her  head,  whilst  her  staff  fell  rattling  on  the  marble 
floor  and  rolled  away  from  her, "  O  Tonino  mine,  I  know 
it  ;  yes,  I  know  it  ;  you  must  cling  to  me  with  all  your 
soul,  you  may  do  as  you  will,  for — but  hush  !  hush  ! 
hush  ! "  The  old  woman  stooped  painfully  down  in 
order  to  reach  her  staff,  but  Antonio  picked  it  up  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

Leaning  her  sharp  chin  on  her  staff,  and  riveting 
her  eyes  in  a  set  stare  upon  the  ground,  she  began  to 


24 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


speak  in  a  reserved  but  hollow  voice,  "  Tell  me,  my 
child,  have  you  no  recollection  at  all  of  any  former  time, 
of  what  you  did  or  where  you  were  before  you  found 
yourself  here,  a  poor  wretch  hardly  able  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together  ?  "  With  a  deep  sigh,  Antonio  took 
Iiis  seat  beside  the  old  crone  and  then  began,  "Alas! 
mother,  only  too  well  do  I  know  that  I  was  born  of  par- 
ents living  in  the  most  prosperous  circumstances  ;  but 
who  they  were  and  how  I  came  to  leave  them,  of  this  I 
have  not  the  slightest  notion,  nor  could  I  have.  I  re- 
member very  well  a  tall  handsome  man,  who  often  took 
me  in  his  arms  and  smothered  me  with  kisses  and  put 
sweets  in  my  mouth.  And  I  can  also  in  the  same  way 
call  to  mind  a  pleasant  and  pretty  lady,  who  used  to 
dress  and  undress  me  and  place  me  in  a  soft  little  bed 
every  night,  and  who  in  fact  was  very  kind  to  me  in 
every  way.  They  used  to  talk  to  me  in  a  foreign, 
sonorous  language,  and  I  also  stammered  several  words 
of  the  same  tongue  after  them.  Whilst  I  was  an 
oarsman  my  jealous  rivals  used  to  say  I  must  be  of 
German  origin,  from  the  colour  of  my  hair  and  eyes, 
and  from  my  general  build.  And  this  I  believe  myself, 
for  the  language  which  that  man  spoke  (he  must  have 
been  my  father)  was  German.  But  the  most  vivid 
recollection  which  I  have  of  that  time  is  that  of  one 
terrible  night,  when  I  was  awakened  out  of  deep  sleep 
by  a  fearful  scream  of  distress.  People  were  running 
about  the  house  ;  doors  were  being  opened  and  banged 
to  ;  I  grew  terribly  frightened,  and  began  to  cry 
loudly.  Then  the  lady  who  used  to  dress  me  and  take 
care  of  me  burst  into  the  room,  snatched  me  out  of 
bed,  stopped  my  mouth,  enveloped  me  in  shawls,  and 
ran  off  with  me.  From  that  moment  I  can  remember 
nothing  more,  until  I  found  myself  again  in  a  splen- 
did house,  situated  in  a  most  charming  district.  Then 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


25 


there  rises  up  the  image  of  a  man  whom  I  called 
'  father,'  a  majestic  man  of  noble  but  benevolent  ap- 
pearance. Like  all  the  rest  in  the  house,  he  spoke 
Italian. 

"  For  several  weeks  I  had  not  seen  my  father,  when 
one  day  several  ugly-looking  strangers  came  and  kicked 
up  a  great  deal  of  noise  in  the  house,  rummaging  about 
and  turning  out  everything.  When  they  saw  me  they 
asked  who  I  wTas,  and  what  I  wTas  doing  there  ?  1  Don't 
you  know  I'm  Antonio,  and  belong  to  the  house?'  I 
replied  ;  but  they  laughed  in  my  face  and  tore  off  all 
my  fine  clothes  and  turned  me  out  of  doors,  threaten- 
ing to  have  me  whipped  if  I  dared  to  show  myself 
again.  I  ran  away  screaming  and  crying.  I  had  not 
gone  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house  when  I  met  an 
old  man,  whom  I  recognised  as  being  one  of  my  fos- 
ter-father's servants.  '  Come  along,  Antonio,'  he  said, 
taking  hold  of  my  hand,  '  come  along,  my  poor  boy, 
that  house  is  now  closed  to  us  both  for  ever.  We  must 
both  look  out  and  see  how  we  can  earn  a  crust  of 
bread.' 

"The  old  man  brought  me  along  with  him  here. 
He  was  not  so  poor  as  he  seemed  to  be  from  his  mean 
clothing.  Directly  we  arrived  I  saw  him  rip  up  his 
jerkin  and  produce  a  bag  of  sequins  ;  and  lie  spent  the 
whole  day  running  about  on  the  Rialto,  now  acting  as 
broker,  now  dealing  on  his  own  account.  I  had  always 
to  be  close  at  his  heels  ;  and  whenever  he  had  made 
a  bargain  he  had  a  habit  of  begging  a  trifle  for  the 
figliuolo  (little  boy).  Every  one  whom  I  looked  boldly 
in  the  face  was  glad  to  pull  out  a  few  pence,  which 
the  old  man  pocketed  with  infinite  satisfaction,  affirm- 
ing, as  he  stroked  my  cheeks,  that  he  was  saving  it  up 
to  buy  me  a  new  jerkin.  I  was  very  comfortable  with 
the  old  man,  whom  the  people  called  Old  Father  Blue- 


26 


THE  DOGE  AND  DCGESS. 


nose,  though  for  what  reason  I  don't  know.  But  this 
life  did  not  last  long.  You  will  remember  that  terrible 
time,  old  woman,  when  one  day  the  earth  began  to 
tremble,  and  towers  and  palaces  were  shaken  to  their 
very  foundations  and  began  to  reel  and  totter,  and  the 
bells  to  ring  as  if  tolled  by  the  arms  of  invisible  giants. 
Hardly  seven  years  have  passed  since  that  day.  Fortu- 
nately I  escaped  along  with  my  old  man  out  of  the 
house  before  it  fell  in  with  a  crash  behind  us.  There 
was  no  business  doing  ;  everybody  on  the  Rialto  seemed 
stunned,  and  everything  lifeless.  But  this  dreadful 
event  was  only  the  precursor  of  another  approaching 
monster,  which  soon  breathed  out  its  poisonous  breath 
over  the  town  and  the  surrounding  country.  It  was 
known  that  the  pestilence,  which  had  first  made  its  way 
from  the  Levant  into  Sicily,  wTas  committing  havoc  in 
Tuscany.1  As  yet  Venice  had  been  spared.  One  day 
Old  Father  Bluenosewas  dealing  with  an  Armenian  on 
the  Rialto  ;  they  were  agreed  over  their  bargain,  and 
wTarmly  shook  hands.  Father  Bluenose  had  sold  the 
Armenian  certain  good  wares  at  a  very  low  price,  and 
now  asked  for  the  usual  trifle  for  the  figliuolo.  The 
stranger,  a  big  stalwart  man  with  a  thick  curly  beard 
(I  can  see  him  now),  bent  a  kind  look  upon  me,  and 
then  kissed  me,  pressing  a  few  sequins  into  my  hand, 
which  I  hastily  pocketed.  We  took  a  gondola  to  St. 
Mark's.  On  the  way  the  old  man  asked  me  for  the  se- 
quins, but  for  some  reason  or  other,  I  don't  know  what 
induced  me  to  do  it,  I  maintained  that  I  must  keep  them 
myself,  since  the  Armenian  had  wished  me  to  do  so. 

1  In  the  year  1348,  Venice  was  visited  by  an  earthquake,  and  this 
was  followed  by  the  plague  (the  Black  Death).  In  order  to  complete 
the  roll  of  the  republic's  misfortunes  in  this  gloomy  year,  it  may  be 
added  that  she  also  lost  almost  the  whole  of  her  Black  Sea  fleet  to  the 
Genoese. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGE  SS. 


27 


The  old  man  got  angry  ;  but  whilst  he  was  quarrelling 
with  me  I  noticed  a  disagreeable  dirty  yellow  colour 
spreading  over  his  face,  and  that  he  was  mixing  up  all 
sorts  of  incoherent  nonsense  in  his  talk.  When  we 
reached  the  Square  he  reeled  about  like  a  drunken  man, 
until  he  fell  to  the  ground  in  front  of  the  Ducal  Palace 
— dead.  With  a  loud  wail  I  threw  myself  upon  the 
corpse.  The  people  came  running  round  us,  but  as 
soon  as  the  dreaded  cry  '  The  pestilence  !  the  pesti- 
lence ! '  was  heard,  they  scattered  and  flew  apart  in 
terror.  At  the  same  moment  I  was  seized  by  a  dull 
numbing  pain,  and  my  senses  left  me. 

"  When  I  awoke  I  found  I  was  in  a  spacious  room, 
lying  on  a  plain  mattress,  and  covered  with  a  blanket. 
Round  about  me  there  were  fully  twenty  or  thirty 
other  pale  ghastly  forms  lying  on  similar  mattresses. 
As  I  learned  later,  certain  compassionate  monks,  who 
happened  to  be  just  coming  out  of  St.  Mark's,  had,  on 
finding  signs  of  life  in  me,  put  me  in  a  gondola  and 
got  me  taken  over  to  Giudecca  into  the  monastery 
of  San  Giorgio  Maggiore,  where  the  Benedictines  had 
established  a  hospital.  How  can  I  describe  to  you, 
old  woman,  this  moment  of  re-awakening  ?  The  vio- 
lence of  the  plague  had  completely  robbed  me  of  all 
recollections  of  the  past.  Just  as  if  the  spark  of  life 
had  been  suddenly  dropped  into  a  lifeless  statue,  I  had 
but  a  momentary  kind  of  existence,  so  to  speak,  linked 
on  to  nothing.  You  may  imagine  what  trouble,  what 
distress  this  life  occasioned  me  in  which  my  conscious- 
ness seemed  to  swim  in  empty  space  without  an  an- 
chorage. All  that  the  monks  could  tell  me  was  that  I 
had  been  found  beside  Father  Bluenose,  whose  son  I 
was  generally  accounted  to  be.  Gradually  and  slowly 
I  gathered  my  thoughts  together,  and  tried  to  reflect 
upon  my  previous  life,  but  what  I  have  told  you,  old 


2  8 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


dame,  is  all  that  I  can  remember  of  it,  and  that  consists 
only  of  certain  individual  disconnected  pictures.  Oh  ! 
this  miserable  being-alone-in-the-world  !  I  can't  be 
gay  and  happy,  no  matter  what  may  happen  !  "  "  To- 
nino,  my  dear  Tonino,"  said  the  old  woman,  "be  con- 
tented with  what  the  present  moment  gives  you." 

"  Say  no  more,  old  woman,  say  no  more,"  interrupted 
Antonio  ;  "there  is  still  something  else  which  embit- 
ters my  life,  following  me  about  incessantly  every- 
where ;  I  know  it  will  be  the  utter  ruin  of  me  in  the 
end.  An  unspeakable  longing,— a  consuming  aspira- 
tion for  something, — I  can  neither  say  nor  even  con- 
ceive what  it  is — lias  taken  complete  possession  of  my 
heart  and  mind  since  I  awoke  to  renewed  life  in  the 
hospital.  Whilst  I  was  still  poor  and  wretched,  and 
threw  myself  down  at  night  on  my  hard  couch,  weary 
and  worn  out  by  the  hard  heavy  labour  of  the  day,  a 
dream  used  to  come  to  me,  and,  fanning  my  hot  brow 
with  balmy  rustling  breezes,  shed  about  my  heart  all 
the  inexpressible  bliss  of  some  single  happy  moment, 
in  which  the  Eternal  Power  had  been  pleased  to  grant 
me  in  thought  a  glimpse  of  the  delights  of  heaven, 
and  the  memory  of  which  was  treasured  up  in  the  re- 
cesses of  my  soul.  I  now  rest  on  soft  cushions,  and  no 
labour  consumes  my  strength  :  but  if  I  awaken  out  of  a 
dream,  or  if  in  my  waking  hours  the  recollection  of 
that  great  moment  returns  to  my  mind,  I  feel  that  the 
lonely  wretched  existence  I  lead  is  just  as  much  an  op- 
pressive burden  now  as  it  was  then,  and  that  it  is  vain 
for  me  to  try  and  shake  it  off.  All  my  thinking  and 
all  my  inquiries  are  fruitless  ;  I  cannot  fathom  what 
this  glorious  thing  is  which  formerly  happened  in  my 
life.  Its  mysterious  and  alas  !  to  me,  unintelligible 
echo,  as  it  were,  fills  me  with  such  great  happiness; 
but  will  not  this  happiness  pass  over  into  the  most 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


29 


agonising  pain,  and  torture  me  to  death,  when  I  am 
obliged  to  acknowledge  that  all  my  hope  of  ever  find- 
ing that  unknown  Eden  again,  nay,  that  even  the  cour- 
age to  search  for  it,  is  lost  ?  Can  there  indeed  remain 
traces  of  that  which  has  vanished  without  leaving  any 
sign  behind  it  ? "  Antonio  ceased  speaking,  and  a 
deep  and  painful  sigh  escaped  his  breast. 

During  his  narrative  the  old  crone  had  behaved  like 
one  who  sympathised  fully  with  his  trouble,  and  felt 
all  that  he  felt,  and  like  a  mirror  reflected  every  move- 
ment and  gesture  which  the  pain  wrung  from  him. 
"  Tonino,"  she  now  began  in  a  tearful  voice,  "my 
dear  Tonino,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  let  your 
courage  sink  because  the  remembrance  of  some  glori- 
ous moment  in  your  life  has  perished  out  of  your 
mind?  You  foolish  child  !  You  foolish  child  !  Listen 
to — hi  !  hi  !  hi ! "  The  old  woman  began  to  chuckle 
and  laugh  in  her  usual  disagreeable  way,  and  to  hop 
about  on  the  marble  floor.  Some  people  came  ;  she 
cowered  down  in  her  accustomed  posture  ;  they  threw 
her  alms.  "Antonio — lead  me  away,  Antonio — away 
to  the  sea,"  she  croaked.  Almost  involuntarily — he 
could  not  explain  how  it  came  about — he  took  her  by 
the  arm  and  led  her  slowly  across  St.  Mark's  Square. 
On  the  way  the  old  woman  muttered  softly  and  sol- 
emnly, "Antonio,  do  you  see  these  dark  stains  of 
blood  here  on  the  ground  ?  Yes,  blood — much  blood 
— much  blood  everywhere  !  But,  hi  !  hi !  hi  !  Roses 
will  spring  up  out  of  the  blood — beautiful  red  roses 
for  a  wreath  for  you — for  your  sweetheart.  O  good 
Lord  of  all,  what  lovely  angel  of  light  is  this,  who  is 
coming  to  meet  you  with  such  grace  and  such  a  bright 
starry  smile  ?  Her  lily-white  arms  are  stretched  out  to 
embrace  you.  O  Antonio,  you  lucky,  lucky  lad  !  bear 
yourself  bravely  !  bear  yourself  bravely  !    And  at  the 


5o 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


sweet  hour  of  sunset  you  may  pluck  myrtle-leaves — 
myrtle-leaves  for  the  bride — for  the  maiden-widow — 
hi  !  hi !  hi  !  Myrtle-leaves  plucked  at  the  hour  of  sun- 
set, but  these  will  not  be  blossoms  until  midnight ! 
Do  you  hear  the  whisperings  of  the  night-winds  ?  the 
longing  moaning  swell  of  the  sea  ?  Row  away  brave- 
ly, my  bold  oarsman,  row  away  bravely ! "  Antonio's 
heart  was  deeply  thrilled  with  awe  as  he  listened  to  the 
old  crone's  wonderful  words,  which  she  mumbled  to 
herself  in  a  very  peculiar  and  extraordinary  way,  min- 
gled with  an  incessant  chuckling. 

They  came  to  the  pillar  which  bears  the  Lion  of  the 
Adriatic.  The  old  woman  was  going  on  right  past  it, 
still  muttering  to  herself;  but  Antonio,  feeling  very 
uncomfortable  at  the  old  crone's  behaviour,  and  being, 
moreover,  stared  at  in  astonishment  by  the  passers-by, 
stopped  and  said  roughly,  "  Here — sit  you  down  on 
these  steps,  old  woman,  and  have  done  with  your 
talk  ;  it  will  drive  me  mad.  It  is  a  fact  that  you  saw 
my  sequins  in  the  fiery  images  in  the  clouds  ;  but,  for 
that  very  reason,  what  do  you  mean  by  prating  about 
angels  of  light  —  bride  —  maiden-widow  —  roses  and 
myrtle-leaves  ?  Do  you  want  to  make  a  fool  of  me, 
you  fearful  woman,  till  some  insane  attempt  hurries 
me  to  destruction  ?  You  shall  have  a  new  hood — bread 
— sequins — all  that  you  want,  but  leave  me  alone." 
And  he  was  about  to  make  off  hastily  ;  but  the  old 
woman  caught  him  by  the  mantle,  and  cried  in  a  shrill 
piercing  voice,  "  Tonino,  my  Tonino,  do  take  a  good 
look  at  me  for  once,  or  else  I  must  go  to  the  very  edge 
of  the  Square  yonder  and  in  despair  throw  myself  over 
into  the  sea."  In  order  to  avoid  attracting  more  eyes 
upon  him  than  he  was  already  doing,  Antonio  actually 
stood  still.  "  Tonino,"  went  on  the  old  woman,  "sit 
down  here  beside  me ;  my  heart  is  bursting,  I  must 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


3i 


tell  you — Oh  !  do  sit  down  here  beside  me."  Antonio 
sat  down  on  the  steps,  but  so  as  to  turn  his  back  upon 
her  ;  and  he  took  out  his  account-book,  whose  white 
pages  bore  witness  to  the  zeal  with  which  he  did  busi- 
ness on  the  Rialto. 

The  old  woman  now  whispered  very  low,  "  Tonino, 
when  you  look  upon  my  shrivelled  features,  does  there 
not  dawn  upon  your  mind  the  slightest,  faintest  rec- 
ollection of  having  known  me  formerly  a  long,  long 
time  ago  ? "  "I  have  already  told  you,  old  woman," 
replied  Antonio  in  the  same  low  tones,  and  without 
turning  round,  "  I  have  already  told  you,  that  I  feel 
drawn  towards  you  in  a  way  that  I  can't  explain  to 
myself,  but  I  don't  attribute  it  to  your  ugly  shrivelled 
face.  Nay,  when  I  look  at  your  strange  black  glitter- 
ing eyes  and  sharp  nose,  at  your  blue  lips  and  long 
chin,  and  bristly  grey  hair,  and  when  I  hear  your 
abominable  chuckling  and  laughing,  and  your  con- 
fused talk,  I  rather  turn  away  from  you  with  disgust, 
and  am  even  inclined  to  believe  that  you  possess  some 
execrable  power  for  attracting  me  to  you."  "  O  God  ! 
God  !  God  ! "  whined  the  old  dame,  a  prey  to  un- 
speakable pain,  "  what  fiendish  spirit  of  darkness  has 
put  such  fearful  thoughts  into  your  head  ?  O  Tonino, 
my  darling  Tonino,  the  woman  who  took  such  tender 
loving  care  of  you  when  a  child,  and  who  saved  your 
life  from  the  most  threatening  danger  on  that  awful 
night — it  was  I." 

In  the  first  moments  of  startled  surprise  Antonio 
turned  round  as  if  shot  ;  but  then  he  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  the  old  woman's  hideous  face  and  cried  angrily, 
"  So  that  is  the  way  you  think  you  are  going  to  befool 
me,  you  abominable  insane  old  crone  !  The  few  rec- 
ollections which  I  have  retained  of  my  childhood  are 
fresh  and  lively.     That  kind  and  pretty  lady  who 


32 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


tended  me — Oh  !  I  can  see  her  plainly  now  !  She 
had  a  full  bright  face  with  some  colour  in  it — eyes 
gently  smiling — beautiful  dark-brown  hair — dainty 
hands  ;  she  could  hardly  be  thirty  years  old,  and  you 
— you,  an  old  woman  of  ninety  ! "  "  O  all  ye  saints 
of  Heaven  !  "  interrupted  the  old  dame,  sobbing,  "  all 
ye  blessed  ones,  what  shall  I  do  to  make  my  Tonino 
believe  in  me,  his  faithful  Margaret  ?  "  "  Margaret !  " 
murmured  Antonio,  "  Margaret !  That  name  falls 
upon  my  ears  like  music  heard  a  long  long  time  ago, 
and  for  a  long  long  time  forgotten.  But — no,  it  is 
impossible — impossible."  Then  the  old  dame  went 
on  more  calmly,  dropping  her  eyes,  and  scribbling  as 
it  were  with  her  staff  on  the  ground,  "  You  are  right ; 
the  tall  handsome  man  who  used  to  take  you  in  his 
arms  and  kiss  you  and  give  you  sweets  was  your  father, 
Tonino  ;  and  the  language  in  which  we  spoke  to  each 
other  was  the  beautiful  sonorous  German.  Your 
father  was  a  rich  and  influential  merchant  in  Augs- 
burg. His  young  and  lovely  wife  died  in  giving  birth 
to  you.  Then,  since  he  could  not  settle  down  in  the 
place  where  his  dearest  lay  buried,  he  came  hither  to 
Venice,  and  brought  me,  your  nurse,  with  him  to  take 
care  of  you.  That  terrible  night  an  awful  fate  over- 
took your  father,  and  also  threatened  you.  I  succeeded 
in  saving  you.  A  noble  Venetian  adopted  you  ;  I, 
deprived  of  all  means  of  support,  had  to  remain  in 
Venice. 

"  My  father,  a  barber-surgeon,  of  whom  it  was  said 
that  he  practised  forbidden  science  as  well,  had  made 
me  familiar  from  my  earliest  childhood  with  the 
mysterious  virtues  of  Nature's  remedies.  By  him  I 
was  taught  to  wander  through  the  fields  and  woods, 
learning  the  properties  of  many  healing  herbs,  of 
many  insignificant  mosses,  the  hours  when  they  should 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


33 


be  plucked  and  gathered,  and  how  to  mix  the  juices 
of  the  various  simples.  But  to  this  knowledge  there 
was  added  a  very  special  gift,  which  Heaven  has  en- 
dowed me  with  for  some  inscrutable  purpose.  I  often 
see  future  events  as  if  in  a  dim  and  distant  mirror  ; 
and  almost  without  any  conscious  effort  of  will,  I 
declare  in  expressions  which  are  unintelligible  to  my- 
self what  I  have  seen  ;  for  some  unknown  Power 
compels  me,  and  I  cannot  resist  it.  Now  when  I  had 
to  stay  behind  in  Venice,  deserted  of  all  the  world,  I 
resolved  to  earn  a  livelihood  by  means  of  my  tried 
skill.  In  a  brief  time  I  cured  the  most  dangerous 
diseases.  And  furthermore,  as  my  presence  alone  had 
a  beneficial  effect  upon  my  patients,  and  the  soft 
stroking  of  my  hand  often  brought  them  past  the 
crisis  in  a  few  minutes,  my  fame  necessarily  soon 
spread  through  the  town,  and  money  came  pouring  in 
in  streams.  This  awakened  the  jealousy  of  the  physi- 
cians, quacks  who  sold  their  pills  and  essences  in 
St.  Mark's  Square,  on  the  Rialto,  and  in  the  Mint, 
poisoning  their  patients  instead  of  curing  them.  They 
spread  abroad  that  I  was  in  league  with  the  devil 
himself  ;  and  they  were  believed  by  the  superstitious 
folk.  I  was  soon  arrested  and  brought  before  the 
ecclesiastical  tribunal.  O  my  Tonino,  what  horrid 
tortures  did  they  inflict  upon  me  in  order  to  force 
from  me  a  confession  of  the  most  damnable  of  all 
alliances  !  I  remained  firm.  My  hair  turned  white  ; 
my  body  withered  up  to  a  mummy  ;  my  feet  and 
hands  were  paralysed.  But  there  was  still  the  terrible 
rack  left — the  cunningest  invention  of  the  foul  fiend, 
— and  it  extorted  from  me  a  confession  at  which  I 
shudder  even  now.  I  was  to  be  burnt  alive  ;  but 
when  the  earthquake  shook  the  foundations  of  the 
palaces  and  of  the  great. prison,  the  door  of  the  under- 
Vol.  II. — 3 


34 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


ground  dungeon  in  which  I  lay  confined  sprang  open 
of  itself,  and  I  staggered  up  out  of  my  grave  as  it 
were  through  rubbish  and  ruins.1  O  Tonino,  you 
called  me  an  old  woman  of  ninety  ;  I  am  hardly  more 
than  fifty.  This  lean,  emaciated  body,  this  hideously 
distorted  face,  this  icicle-like  hair,  these  lame  feet — 
no,  it  was  not  the  lapse  of  years,  it  was  only  unspeak- 
able tortures  which  could  in  a  few  months  change  me 
thus  from  a  strong  woman  into  the  monstrous  creature 
I  now  am.  And  my  hideous  chuckling  and  laughing 
— this  was  forced  from  me  by  the  last  strain  on  the 
rack,  at  the  memory  of  which  my  hair  even  now 
stands  on  an  end,  and  I  feel  altogether  as  if  I  were 
locked  in  a  red-hot  coat  of  mail  ;  and  since  that  time 
I  have  been  constantly  subject  to  it ;  it  attacks  me 
without  my  being  able  to  check  it.  So  don't  stand 
any  longer  in  awe  of  me,  Tonino.  Oh  !  it  was  indeed 
your  heart  which  told  you  that  as  a  little  boy  you  lay 
on  my  bosom."  "Woman,"  said  Antonio  hoarsely, 
wrapped  up  in  his  own  thoughts,  "  woman,  I  feel  as 
if  I  must  believe  you.  But  who  was  my  father? 
What  was  he  called  ?  What  was  the  awful  fate  which 
overtook  him  on  that  terrible  night  ?  Who  was  it 
who  adopted  me  ?  And — what  was  that  occurrence  in 
my  life  which  now,  like  some  potent  magical  spell 
from  a  strange  and  unknown  world,  exercises  an  irre- 
sistible sway  over  my  soul,  so  that  all  my  thoughts  are 
dissipated  into  a  dark  night-like  sea,  so  to  speak  ? 
When  you  tell  me  all  this,  you  mysterious  woman, 
then  I  will  believe  you."  "  Tonino,"  replied  the  old 
crone,  sighing,  "for  your  own  sake  I  must  keep  silent ; 


1  It  may  perhaps  be  interesting  to  observe  that  a  precisely  similar 
occurrence  forms  the  central  feature  in  H.  v.  Kleist' s  "  Erdbeben  in 
Chili  "  (1810),  perhaps  one  of  the  best  of  his  short  stories. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


35 


but  the  time  when  I  may  speak  will  soon  come.  The 
Fontego  — the  Fontego — keep  away  from  the  Fontego." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Antonio  angrily,  "  you  need  not  begin 
to  speak  your  dark  sentences  again  to  enchant  me  by 
some  devilish  wile  or  other.    My  heart  is  rent,  you 

must  speak,  or"   "Stop,"  interrupted  she,  "no 

threats — am  I  not  your  faithful  nurse,  who  tended 

you  ? "   Without  waiting  to  hear  what   the  old 

woman  had  got  further  to  say,  he  picked  himself  up 
and  ran  away  swiftly.  From  a  distance  he  shouted  to 
her,  "  You  shall  nevertheless  have  a  new  hood,  and  as 
many  sequins  besides  as  you  like." 

It  was  in  truth  a  remarkable  spectacle,  to  see  the  old 
Doge  Marino  Falieri  and  his  youthful  wife  :  he,  strong 
enough  and  robust  enough  in  very  truth,  but  with  a 
grey  beard,  and  innumerable  wrinkles  in  his  rusty 
brown  face,  with  some  difficulty  bearing  his  head  erect, 
forming  a  pathetic  figure  as  he  strode  along  ;  she,  a 
perfect  picture  of  grace,  with  the  pure  gentleness  of 
an  angel  in  her  divinely  beautiful  face,  an  irresistible 
charm  in  her  longing  glances,  a  queenly  dignity  en- 
throned upon  her  open  lily-white  brow,  shadowed  by 
her  dark  locks,  a  sweet  smile  upon  her  cheeks  and  lips, 
her  pretty  head  bent  with  winsome  submissiveness, 
her  slender  form  moving  with  ease,  scarce  seeming  to 
touch  the  earth — a  beautiful  lady  in  fact,  a  native  of 
another  and  a  higher  world.  Of  course  you  have  seen 
angelic  forms  like  this,  conceived  and  painted  by  the 
old  masters.  Such  was  Annunciata.  How  then  could 
it  be  otherwise  but  that  every  one  who  saw  her  was 
astonished  and  enraptured  with  her  beauty,  and  all 
the  fiery  youths  of  the  Seignory  were  consumed  with 
passion,  measuring  the  old  Doge  with  mocking  looks, 
and  swearing  in  their  hearts  that  they  would  be  the 


36 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


Mars  to  this  Vulcan,  let  the  consequences  be  what  they 
might  ?  Annunciata  soon  found  herself  surrounded 
with  admirers,  to  whose  flattering  and  seductive  words 
she  listened  quietly  and  graciously,  without  thinking 
anything  in  particular  about  them.  The  conception 
which  her  pure  angelic  spirit  had  formed  of  her  rela- 
tion to  her  aged  and  princely  husband  was  that  she 
ought  to  honour  him  as  her  supreme  lord,  and  cling  to 
him  with  all  the  unquestioning  fidelity  of  a  submissive 
handmaiden.  He  treated  her  kindly,  nay  tenderly  ;  he 
pressed  her  to  his  ice-cold  heart  and  called  her  his  dar- 
ling ;  he  heaped  up  all  the  jewels  he  could  find  upon 
her ;  what  else  could  she  wish  for  from  him,  what  other 
rights  could  she  have  upon  him  ?  In  this  way,  there- 
fore, it  was  impossible  for  the  thought  of  unfaithfulness 
to  the  old  man  ever  in  any  way  to  find  lodgment  in  her 
mind  ;  all  that  lay  beyond  the  narrow  circle  of  these 
limited  relations  was  to  this  good  child  an  unknown 
region,  whose  forbidden  borders  were  wrapped  in  dark 
mists,  unseen  and  unsuspected  by  her.  Hence  all  efforts 
to  win  her  love  were  fruitless. 

But  the  flames  of  passion — of  love  for  the  beautiful 
Dogess — burned  in  none  so  violently  and  so  uncon- 
trolled as  in  Michele  Steno.  Notwithstanding  his 
youth,  he  was  invested  with  the  important  and  influen- 
tial post  of  Member  of  the  Council  of  Forty.  Relying 
upon  this  fact,  as  well  as  upon  his  personal  beauty,  he 
felt  confident  of  success.  Old  Marino  Falieri  he  did 
not  fear  in  the  least ;  and,  indeed,  the  old  man  seemed 
to  indulge  less  frequently  in  his  violent  outbreaks  of 
furious  passion,  and  to  have  laid  aside  his  rugged 
untamable  fierceness,  since  his  marriage.  There  he  sat 
beside  his  beautiful  Annunciata,  spruce  and  prim,  in 
the  richest,  gayest  apparel,  smirking  and  smiling,  chal- 
lenging in  the  sweet  glances  of  his  grey  eyes, — from 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


37 


which  a  treacherous  tear  stole  from  time  to  time, — 
those  who  were  present  to  say  if  any  one  of  them  could 
boast  of  such  a  wife  as  his.  Instead  of  speaking  in  the 
rough  arrogant  tone  of  voice  in  which  he  had  formerly 
been  in  the  habit  of  expressing  himself,  he  whispered, 
scarce  moving  his  lips,  addressed  every  one  in  the  most 
amiable  manner,  and  granted  the  most  absurd  petitions. 
Who  would  have  recognised  in  this  weak  amorous  old 
man  the  same  Falieri  wTho  had  in  a  fit  of  passion  buf- 
feted the  bishop1  on  Corpus  Christi  Day  at  Treviso, 
and  who  had  defeated  the  valiant  Morbassan.  This 
growing  weakness  spurred  on  Michele  Steno  to  attempt 
the  most  extravagant  schemes.  Annunciata  did  not 
understand  wThy  he  was  constantly  pursuing  her  with 
his  looks  and  words ;  she  had  no  conception  of  his  real 
purpose,  but  always  preserved  the  same  gentle,  calm, 
and  friendly  bearing  towards  him.  It  was  just  this 
quiet  unconscious  behaviour,  however,  which  drove 
him  wild,  which  drove  him  to  despair  almost.  He 
determined  to  effect  his  end  by  sinister  means.  He 
managed  to  involve  Annunciata's  most  confidential 
maid  in  a  love  intrigue,  and  she  at  last  permitted  him 
to  visit  her  at  night.  Thus  he  believed  he  had  paved 
a  way  to  Annunciata's  unpolluted  chamber  ;  but  the 
Eternal  Power  willed  that  this  treacherous  iniquity 
should  recoil  upon  the  head  of  its  wicked  author. 

One  night  it  chanced  that  the  Doge,  who  had  just 
received  the  ill  tidings  of  the  battle  which  Nicolo 
Pisani  had  lost  against  Doria  off  Porto  Longo,2  was 
unable  to  sleep  owing  to  care  and  anxiety,  and  was 
rambling  through  the  passages  of  the  Ducal  Palace. 
Then  he  became  aware  of  a  shadow  stealing  apparently 

1  Narrated  in  the  translation  of  the  Chronicle  of  Sanuto  by  Sir 
Francis  Palgrave  in  Byron's  notes  to  "Marino  Faliero." 

2  On  the  island  of  Sapenzia,  south-west  of  the  Morea. 


3* 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


out  of  Annunciata's  apartments  and  creeping  towards 
the  stairs.  He  at  once  rushed  towards  it  ;  it  was 
Michele  Steno  leaving  his  mistress.  A  terrible  thought 
flashed  across  Falieri's  mind;  with  the  cry  " Annun- 
ciata !  "  he  threw  himself  upon  Steno  with  his  drawn 
dagger  in  his  hand.  But  Steno,  who  was  stronger  and 
more  agile  than  the  old  man,  averted  the  thrust,  and 
knocked  him  down  with  a  violent  blow  of  his  fist ;  then, 
laughing  loudly  and  shouting,  "Annunciata!  Annun- 
ciata  ! "  he  rushed  downstairs.  The  old  man  picked 
himself  up  and  stole  towards  Annunciata's  apartments, 
his  heart  on  fire  with  the  torments  of  hell.  All  was 
quiet,  as  still  as  the  grave.  He  knocked  ;  a  strange 
maid  opened  the  door — not  the  one  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  sleeping  near  Annunciata's  chamber.  "What 
does  my  princely  husband  command  at  this  late  and 
unusual  hour?"  asked  Annunciata  in  a  calm  and 
sweetly  gentle  tone,  for  she  had  meanwhile  thrown  on 
a  light  night-robe  and  was  now  come  forward.  Old 
Falieri  stared  at  her  speechless  ;  then,  raising  both 
hands  above  his  head,  he  cried,  "No,  it  is  not  possible, 
it  is  not  possible."  "What  is  not  possible,  my  princely 
sir?"  asked  Annunciata,  startled  at  the  deep  solemn 
tones  of  the  old  man's  voice.  But  Falieri,  without  an- 
swering her  question,  turned  to  the  maid,  "  Why  are 
you  sleeping  here  ?  why  does  not  Luigia  sleep  here  as 
usual  ? "  "  Oh  !  "  replied  the  little  one,  "  Luigia  would 
make  me  exchange  places  with  her  to-night  ;  she  is 
sleeping  in  the  ante-room  close  by  the  stairs."  "  Close 
by  the  stairs ! "  echoed  Falieri,  delighted  ;  and  he  hur- 
ried away  to  the  ante-room.  At  his  loud  knocking 
Luigia  opened  the  door  ;  and  when  she  saw  the  Doge, 
her  master's  face  inflamed  with  rage,  and  his  flashing 
eyes,  she  threw  herself  upon  her  bare  knees  and  con- 
fessed her  shame,  which  was  set  beyond  all  doubt  by  a 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


39 


pair  of  elegant  gentleman's  gloves  lying  on  the  easy- 
chair,  whilst  the  sweet  scent  about  them  betrayed  their 
dandified  owner.  Hotly  incensed  at  Steno's  unheard- 
of  impudence,  the  Doge  wrote  to  him  next  morning, 
forbidding  him,  on  pain  of  banishment  from  the  town, 
to  approach  the  Ducal  Palace,  or  the  presence  of  the 
Doge  and  Dogess. 

Michele  Steno  was  wild  with  fury  at  the  failure  of 
his  well-planned  scheme,  and  at  the  disgrace  of  being 
thus  banished  from  the  presence  of  his  idol.  Now 
wThen  he  had  to  see  from  a  distance  how  gently  and 
kindly  the  Dogess  spoke  to  other  young  men  of  the 
Seignory — that  was  indeed  her  natural  manner — his 
envy  and  the  violence  of  his  passion  filled  his  mind 
with  evil  thoughts.    The  Dogess  had  without  doubt 
only  scorned  him  because  he  had  been  anticipated  by 
others  with  better  luck  ;  and  he  had  the  hardihood  to 
utter  his  thoughts  openly  and  publicly.    Now  whether 
it  was  that  old  Falieri  had  tidings  of  this  shameless 
talk,  or  whether  he  came  to  look  upon  the  occurrence 
of  that  memorable  night  as  the  warning  finger  of 
destiny,  or  whether  now,  in  spite  of  all  his  calmness 
^and  equanimity,  and  his   perfect  confidence  in  the 
fidelity  of  his  wife,  he  saw  clearly  the  danger  of  the 
unnatural  position  in  which  he  stood  in  respect  to  her 
— at  any  rate  he  became  ill-tempered  and  morose. 
He  was  plagued  and  tortured  by  all  the  fiends  of 
jealousy,  and  confined  Annunciata  to  the  inner  apart- 
ments of  the  Ducal  Palace,  so  that  no  man  ever  set 
eyes  upon  her.    Bodoeri  took  his  niece's  part,  and 
soundly  rated  old  Falieri  ;  but  he  would  not  hear  of 
any  change  in  his  conduct. 

All  this  took  place  shortly  before  Holy  Thursday. 
On  the  occasion  of  the  popular  sports  which  take 
place  on  this  day  in  St.  Mark's  Square,  it  was  custom- 


4o 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


ary  for  the  Dogess  to  take  her  seat  beside  the  Doge, 
under  a  canopy  erected  on  the  balcony  which  lies  op- 
posite to  the  Piazetti.  Bodoeri  reminded  the  Doge  of 
this  custom,  and  told  him  that  it  would  be  very  ab- 
surd, and  sure  to  draw  down  upon  him  the  mocking 
laughter  of  both  populace  and  Seignory,  if,  in  the  teeth 
of  custom  and  usage,  he  let  his  perverse  jealousy  ex- 
clude Annunciata  from  this  honour.  "  Do  you  think," 
replied  old  Falieri,  whose  pride  was  immediately 
aroused,  "  do  you  think  I  am  such  an  idiotic  old  fool 
that  I  am  afraid  to  show  my  most  precious  jewel  for 
fear  of  thievish  hands,  and  that  I  could  not  prevent  her 
being  stolen  from  me  with  my  good  sword  ?  No,  old 
man,  you  are  mistaken  ;  to-morrow  Annunciata  shall 
go  with  me  in  solemn  procession  across  St.  Mark's 
Square,  that  the  people  may  see  their  Dogess,  and  on 
Holy  Thursday  she  shall  receive  the  nosegay  from  the 
bold  sailor  who  comes  sailing  down  out  of  the  air  to 
her."  The  Doge  was  thinking  of  a  very  ancient  cus- 
tom as  he  said  these  words.  On  Holy  Thursday  a  bold 
fellow  from  amongst  the  people  is  drawn  up  from  the 
sea  to  the  summit  of  the  tower  of  St.  Mark's,  in  a 
machine  that  resembles  a  little  ship  and  is  suspended 
on  ropes,  then  he  shoots  from  the  top  of  the  tower  with 
the  speed  of  an  arrow  down  to  the  Square  where  the 
Doge  and  Dogess  are  sitting,  and  presents  a  nosegay  of 
flowers  to  the  Dogess,  or  to  the  Doge  if  he  is  alone. 

The  next  day  the  Doge  carried  out  his  intention. 
Annunciata  had  to  don  her  most  magnificent  robes  ; 
and  surrounded  by  the  Seignory  and  attended  by  pages 
and  guards,  she  and  Falieri  crossed  the  Square  when  it 
was  swarming  with  people.  They  pushed  and  squeezed 
themselves  to  death  almost  to  see  the  beautiful  Dogess  ; 
and  he  who  succeeded  in  setting  eyes  upon  her  thought 
he  had  taken  a  peep  into  Paradise  and  had  beheld  the 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


4T 


loveliest  of  the  bright  and  beautiful  angels.  But  ac- 
cording to  Venetian  habits,  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest 
outbreaks  of  their  frantic  admiration,  here  and  there 
were  heard  all  sorts  of  satiric  phrases  and  rhvmes — and 
coarse  enough  too — aimed  at  old  Falieri  and  his  young 
wife.  Falieri,  however,  appeared  not  to  notice  them, 
but  strode  along  as  pathetically  as  possible  at  Annun- 
ciata's  side,  smirking  and  smiling  all  over  his  face,  and 
free  on  this  occasion  from  all  jealousy,  although  he 
must  have  seen  the  glances  full  of  burning  passion 
which  were  directed  upon  his  beautiful  lady  from  all 
sides.  Arrived  before  the  principal  entrance  to  the 
Palace,  the  guards  had  some  difficulty  in  driving  back 
the  crowd,  so  that  the  Doge  and  Dogess  might  go  in  ; 
but  here  and  there  were  still  standing  isolated  knots  of 
better-dressed  citizens,  who  could  not  very  well  be  re- 
fused entrance  into  even  the  inner  quadrangle  of  the 
Palace.  Now  it  happened  just  at  the  moment  that  the 
Dogess  entered  the  quadrangle,  that  a  young  man,  who 
with  a  few  others  stood  under  the  portico,  fell  down 
suddenly  upon  the  hard  marble  floor,  as  if  dead,  with 
the  lcud  scream,  "  O  good  God  !  good  God  !  "  The 
people  ran  together  from  every  side  and  surrounded 
the  dead  man,  so  that  the  Dogess  could  not  see  him  ; 
yet,  as  the  young  man  fell,  she  felt  as  if  a  red-hot  knife 
wrere  suddenly  thrust  into  her  heart  ;  she  grew  pale  ; 
she  reeled,  and  was  only  prevented  from  fainting  by 
the  smelling-bottles  of  the  ladies  who  hastened  to  her 
assistance.  Old  Falieri,  greatly  alarmed  and  put  out 
by  the  accident,  wished  the  young  man  and  his  fit  any- 
where ;  and  he  carried  his  Annunciata,  who  hung  her 
pretty  head  on  her  bosom  and  closed  her  eyes  like  a 
sick  dove,  himself  up  the  steps  into  her  own  apartments 
in  the  interior  of  the  Palace,  although  it  was  very  hard 
work  for  him  to  do  so. 


4- 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


Meanwhile  the  people,  who  had  increased  to  crowds 
in  the  inner  quadrangle,  had  been  spectators  of  a  re- 
markable scene.  They  were  about  to  lift  up  the  young 
man,  whom  they  took  to  be  quite  dead,  and  carry  him 
away,  when  an  ugly  old  beggar-woman,  all  in  rags, 
came  limping  up  with  a  loud  wail  of  grief  ;  and  punch- 
ing their  sides  and  ribs  with  her  sharp  elbows  she  made 
a  way  for  herself  through  the  thick  of  the  crowd. 
When  she  at  length  saw  the  senseless  youth,  she  cried, 
"Let  him  be,  fools  ;  you  stupid  people,  let  him  be;  he 
is  not  dead."  Then  she  squatted  down  beside  him; 
and  taking  his  head  in  her  lap  she  gently  rubbed  and 
stroked  his  forehead,  calling  him  by  the  sweetest  of 
names.  As  the  people  noted  the  old  woman's  ugly 
apish  face,  and  the  repulsive  play  of  its  muscles,  bend- 
ing over  the  young  fellow's  fine  handsome  face,  his 
soft  features  now  stiff  and  pale  as  in  death,  when  they 
saw  her  filthy  rags  fluttering  about  over  the  rich  cloth- 
ing the  young  man  wore,  and  her  lean  brownish-yellow7 
arms  and  long  hands  trembling  upon  his  forehead  and 
exposed  breast — they  could  not  in  truth  resist  shudder- 
ing with  awe.  It  looked  as  if  it  were  the  grinning  form 
of  death  himself  in  whose  arms  the  young  man  lay. 
Hence  the  crowd  standing  round  slipped  away  quietly 
one  after  the  other,  till  there  were  only  a  few  left. 
They,  when  the  young  man  opened  his  eyes  with  a  deep 
sigh,  took  him  up  and  carried  him,  at  the  old  woman's 
request,  to  the  Grand  Canal,  where  a  gondola  took 
them  both  on  board,  the  old  woman  and  the  youth, 
and  brought  them  to  the  house  which  she  had  indicated 
as  his  dwelling.  Need  it  be  said  that  the  young  man 
was  Antonio,  and  that  the  old  woman  was  the  beggar 
of  the  steps  of  the  Franciscan  Church,  who  wanted  to 
make  herself  out  to  be  his  nurse  ? 

When  Antonio  was  quite  recovered  from  his  stupe- 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


43 


faction  and  perceived  the  old  woman  at  his  bed-side, 
and  knew  that  she  had  just  been  giving  him  some 
strengthening  drops,  he  said  brokenly  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
bending  a  long  gloomy  melancholy  gaze  upon  her, 
"  You  with  me,  Margaret — that  is  good  ;  what  more 
faithful  nurse  could  I  have  found  than  you  ?  Oh  !  for- 
give me,  mother,  that  I,  a  doltish,  senseless  boy,  doubted 
for  an  instant  what  you  discovered  to  me.  Yes,  you 
are  the  Margaret  who  reared  me,  who  cared  for  me  and 
tended  me  ;  I  knew  it  all  the  time,  but  some  evil  spirit 
bewildered  my  thoughts.  I  have  seen  her  ;  it  is  she — 
it  is  she.  Did  I  not  tell  you  there  was  some  mysterious 
magical  power  dwelling  in  me,  which  exercised  an  un- 
controllable supremacy  over  me  ?  It  has  emerged  from 
its  obscurity  dazzling  with  light,  to  effect  my  destruc- 
tion through  nameless  joy.  I  now  know  all — every- 
thing. Was  not  my  foster-father  Bertuccio  Nenolo, 
and  did  he  not  bring  me  up  at  his  country-seat  near 
Treviso  ?  "  "  Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  old  woman,  "  it  was 
indeed  Bertuccio  Nenolo,  the  great  sea-captain,  whom 
the  sea  devoured  as  he  was  about  to  adorn  his  temples 
with  the  victor's  wreath."  "Don't  interrupt  me,"  con- 
tinued Antonio  ;  "  listen  patiently  to  what  I  have  to  say. 

"  With  Bertuccio  Nenolo  I  lived  in  clover.  I  wore 
fine  clothes  ;  the  table  was  always  covered  when  I  was 
hungry  ;  and  after  I  had  said  my  three  prayers  properly 
I  was  allowed  to  run  about  the  woods  and  fields  just  as 
I  pleased.  Close  beside  the  villa  there  was  a  little 
wood  of  sweet  pines,  cool  and  dark,  and  filled  with 
sweet  scents  and  songs.  Theie  one  evening,  when  the 
sun  began  to  sink,  I  threw  me  down  beneath  a  big 
tree,  tired  with  running  and  jumping  about,  and  stared 
up  at  the  blue  sky.  Perhaps  I  was  stupefied  by  the 
fragrant  smell  of  the  flowering  herbs  in  the  midst  of 
which  I  lay  ;  at  any  rate,  my  eyes  closed  involuntarily, 


44 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


and  I  sank  into  a  state  of  dreamy  reverie,  from  which  I 
was  awakened  by  a  rustling,  as  if  some  one  had  struck 
a  blow  in  the  grass  beside  me.  I  started  up  into  a  sit- 
ting posture  ;  an  angelic  child  with  heavenly  eyes  stood 
near  me  and  looked  down  upon  me,  smiling  most 
sweetly  and  bewitchingly.  '  O  good  boy,'  she  said,  in 
a  low  soft  voice,  '  how  beautiful  and  calmly  you  sleep, 
and  yet  death,  nasty  death,  was  so  near  to  you.'  Close 
beside  my  breast  I  saw  a  small  black  snake  with  its 
head  crushed  ;  the  little  girl  had  killed  the  poisonous 
reptile  with  a  switch  from  a  nut-tree,  and  just  as  it  was 
wriggling  on  to  my  destruction.  Then  a  trembling  of 
sweet  awe  fell  upon  me  ;  I  knew  that  angels  often  came 
down  from  heaven  above  to  rescue  men  in  person  from 
the  threatening  attack  of  some  evil  enemy.  I  fell  upon 
my  knees  and  raised  my  folded  hands.  '  Oh  !  you  are 
surely  an  angel  of  light,  sent  by  God  to  save  my  life,'  I 
cried.  The  pretty  creature  stretched  out  both  arms 
towards  me  and  said  softly,  whilst  a  deeper  flush 
mantled  upon  her  cheeks,  1  No,  good  boy  ;  I  am  not  an 
angel,  but  a  girl — a  child  like  you.'  Then  my  feeling 
of  awe  gave  place  to  a  nameless  delight,  which  spread 
like  a  gentle  warmth  through  all  my  limbs.  I  rose  to 
my  feet  ;  we  clasped  each  other  in  our  arms,  our  lips 
met,  and  we  were  speechless,  weeping,  sobbing  with 
sweet  unutterable  sadness. 

"  Then  a  clear  silvery  voice  cried  through  the  wood, 
'Annunciata!  Annunciata  ! '  'I  must  go  now,  darling 
boy,  mother  is  calling  me,'  whispered  the  little  girl. 
My  heart  was  rent  with  unspeakable  pain.  1  Oh  !  I  love 
you  so  much,'  I  sobbed,  and  the  scalding  tears  fell  from 
the  little  girl's  eyes  upon  my  cheeks.  '  I  am  so — so  fond 
of  you,  good  boy,'  she  cried,  pressing  a  last  kiss  upon 
my  lips.  'Annunciata,'  the  voice  cried  again  ;  and  the 
little  girl  disappeared  behind  the  bushes.    Now  that, 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


45 


Margaret,  was  the  moment  when  the  mighty  spark  of 
love  fell  upon  my  soul,  and  it  will  gather  strength,  and, 
enkindling  flame  after  flame,  will  continue  to  burn  there 
for  ever.  A  few  days  afterwards  I  was  turned  out  of 
the  house. 

"  Father  Bluenose  told  me,  since  I  did  not  cease 
talking  about  the  lovely  child  who  had  appeared  to 
me,  and  whose  sweet  voice  I  thought  I  heard  in  the 
rustling  of  the  trees,  in  the  gushing  murmurs  of  the 
springs,  and  in  the  mysterious  soughing  of  the  sea — 
yes,  then  Father  Bluenose  told  me  that  the  girl  could 
be  none  other  than  Nenolo's  daughter  Annunciata, 
who  had  come  to  the  villa  with  her  mother  Frances- 
es, but  had  left  it  again  on  the  following  day.  O 
mother — Margaret — help  me,  Heaven  !  This  Annun- 
ciata— is  the  Dogess."  And  Antonio  buried  his  face 
in  the  pillows,  weeping  and  sobbing  with  unspeakable 
emotion. 

"  My  dear  Tonino,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  rouse 
yourself  and  be  a  man  ;  come,  do  resist  bravely  this 
foolish  emotion.  Come,  come,  how  can  you  think  of 
despairing  when  you  are  in  love  ?  For  whom  does  the 
golden  flower  of  hope  blossom  if  not  for  the  lover  ? 
You  do  not  know  in  the  evening  what  the  morning 
may  bring ;  what  you  have  beheld  in  your  dreams 
comes  to  meet  you  in  living  form.  The  castle  that 
hovered  in  the  air  stands  all  at  once  on  the  earth,  a 
substantial  and  splendid  building.  See  here,  Tonino, 
you  are  not  paying  the  least  heed  to  my  words  ;  but 
my  little  finger  tells  me,  and  so  does  somebody  else  as 
well,  that  the  bright  standard  of  love  is  gaily  waving 
for  you  out  at  sea.  Patience,  Tonino — patience,  my 
boy  ! "  Thus  the  old  woman  sought  to  comfort  poor 
Antonio  ;  and  her  words  did  really  sound  like  sweet 
music.    He  would  not  let  her  leave  him  again.  The 


46 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


beggar-woman  had  disappeared  from  the  steps  of  the 
Franciscan  Church,  and  in  her  stead  people  saw  Signor 
Antonio's  housekeeper,  dressed  in  becoming  matronly 
style,  limping  about  St.  Mark's  Square  and  buying  the 
requisite  provisions  for  his  table. 

Holy  Thursday  was  come.  It  was  to  be  celebrated 
on  this  occasion  in  more  magnificent  fashion  than  it 
had  ever  been  before.  In  the  middle  of  the  Piazzetta 
of  St  Mark's  a  high  staging  was  erected  for  a  special 
kind  of  artistic  fire — something  perfectly  new,  which 
was  to  be  exhibited  by  a  Greek — a  man  experienced 
in  such  matters.  In  the  evening  old  Falieri  came  out 
on  the  balcony  along  with  his  beautiful  lady,  reflecting 
his  pride  and  happiness  in  the  magnificence  of  his  sur- 
roundings, and  with  radiant  eyes  challenging  all  who 
stood  near  to  admire  and  wonder.  As  he  was  about 
to  take  his  seat  on  the  chair  of  state  he  perceived 
Michele  Steno  actually  on  the  same  balcony  with  him, 
and  saw  that  he  had  chosen  a  position  whence  he 
could  keep  his  eyes  constantly  fixed  upon  the  Dogess, 
and  must  of  necessity  be  observed  by  her.  Completely 
overmastered  by  furious  rage,  and  wild  with  jealousy, 
Falieri  shouted  in  a  loud  and  commanding  tone  that 
Steno  was  to  be  at  once  removed  from  the  balcony. 
Michele  Steno  raised  his  hand  against  Falieri,  but  that 
same  moment  the  guards  appeared,  and  compelled  him 
to  quit  his  place,  which  he  did,  foaming  with  rage  and 
grinding  his  teeth,  and  threatening  revenge  in  the  most 
horrible  imprecations. 

Meanwhile  Antonio,  utterly  beside  himself  at  sight 
of  his  beloved  Annunciata,  had  made  his  way  out 
through  the  crowd,  and  was  striding  backwards  and 
forwards  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  alone  along  the 
edge  of  the  sea,  his  heart  rent  by  unutterable  anguish. 
He  debated  within  himself  whether  it  would  not  be 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOG  ESS. 


47 


better  to  extinguish  the  consuming  fire  within  him  in 
the  ice-cold  waves  than  to  be  slowly  tortured  to  death 
by  hopeless  pain.  But  little  was  wanting,  and  he  had 
leapt  into  the  sea;  he  was  already  standing  on  the  last 
step  that  goes  down  to  the  water,  when  a  voice  called 
to  him  from  a  little  boat,  "Ay,  a  very  good  evening  to 
you,  Signor  Antonio."  By  the  reflection  cast  by  the 
illuminations  of  the  Square,  he  recognised  that  it  was 
merry  Pietro,  one  of  his  former  comrades.  He  was 
standing  in  the  boat,  his  new  cap  adorned  with  feathers 
and  tinsel,  and  his  new  striped  jacket  gaily  decorated 
with  ribbons,  whilst  he  held  in  his  hand  a  large  and 
beautiful  nosegay  of  sweet-scented  flowers.  "  Good 
evening,  Pietro,"  shouted  Antonio  back,  "what  grand 
folks  are  you  going  to  row  to-night  that  you  are  decked 
off  so  fine?"  "Oh!"  replied  Pietro,  dancing  till  his 
boat  rocked  ;  "  see  you,  Signor  Antonio,  I  am  going  to 
earn  my  three  sequins  to-day  ;  for  I'm  going  to  make 
the  journey  up  to  St.  Mark's  Tower  and  then  down 
again,  to  take  this  nosegay  to  the  beautiful  Dogess." 
"  But  isn't  that  a  risky  and  break-neck  adventure, 
Pietro,  my  friend?"  asked  Antonio.  ''Well,"  he  re- 
plied, "there  is  some  little  chance  of  breaking  one's 
neck,  especially  as  we  go  to-day  right  through  the 
middle  of  the  artificial  fire.  The  Greek  says,  to  be 
sure,  that  he  has  arranged  everything  so  that  the  fire 

will  not  hurt  a  hair  of  anybody's  head,   but"  ■ 

Pietro  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Antonio  stepped  down  to  Pietro  in  the  boat,  and 
now  perceived  that  he  stood  close  in  front  of  the  ma- 
chine, which  was  fastened  to  a  rope  coming  out  of  the 
sea.  Other  ropes,  by  means  of  which  the  machine  was 
to  be  drawn  up,  were  lost  in  the  night.  "  Now  listen, 
Pietro,"  began  Antonio,  after  a  silent  pause,  "see  here, 
comrade,  if  you  could  earn  ten  sequins  to-day  without 


4s 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


exposing  your  life  to  danger,  would  it  not  be  more 
agreeable  to  you?"  "Why,  of  course,"  and  Pietro 
burst  into  a  good  hearty  laugh.  "Well  then,"  con- 
tinued Antonio,  "  take  these  ten  sequins  and  change 
clothes  with  me,  and  let  me  take  your  place,  I  will  go 
up  instead  of  you.  Do,  my  good  friend  and  comrade, 
Pietro,  let  me  go  up."  Pietro  shook  his  head  dubiously, 
and  weighing  the  money  in  his  hand,  said,  "  You  are 
very  kind,  Signor  Antonio,  to  still  call  a  poor  devil  like 
me  your  comrade,  and  you  are  generous  as  well.  The 
money  T  should  certainly  like  very  much  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  place  this  nosegay  in  our  beautiful 
Dogess's  hand  myself,  to  hear  her  sweet  voice — and 
after  all  that's  really  why  I  am  ready  to  risk  my  life. 
Well,  since  it  is  you,  Signor  Antonio,  I  close  with  your 
offer."  They  both  hastily  changed  their  clothes  ;  and 
hardly  was  Antonio  dressed  when  Pietro  cried,  "  Quick, 
into  the  machine  ;  the  signal  is  given."  At  the  same 
moment  the  sea  was  lit  up  with  the  reflection  of  thou- 
sands of  bright  flashes,  and  all  the  air  along  the  margin 
of  the  sea  rang  with  loud  reverberating  thunders. 
Right  through  the  midst  of  the  hissing  crackling  flames 
of  the  artificial  fire,  Antonio  rose  up  into  the  air  with 
the  speed  of  a  hurricane,  and  shot  down  uninjured 
upon  the  balcony,  hovering  in  front  of  the  Dogess. 
She  had  risen  to  her  feet  and  stepped  forward  ;  he  felt 
her  breath  on  his  cheeks ;  he  gave  her  the  nosegay. 
But  in  the  unspeakable  delirious  delight  of  the  moment 
he  was  clasped  as  if  in  red-hot  arms  by  the  fiery  pain 
of  hopeless  love.  Senseless,  insane  with  longing,  rapt- 
ure, anguish,  he  grasped  her  hand,  and  covered  it  with 
burning  kisses,  crying  in  the  sharp  tone  of  despairing 
misery,  "  O  Annunciata !  "  Then  the  machine,  like  a 
blind  instrument  of  fate,  whisked  him  away  from  his 
beloved  back  to  the  sea,  where  he  sank  down  stunned, 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


49 


quite  exhausted,  into  Pietro's  arms,  who  was  waiting 
for  him  in  the  boat. 

Meanwhile  the  Doge's  balcony  was  the  scene  of  tumult 
and  confusion.  A  small  strip  of  paper  had  been  found 
fastened  to  the  Doge's  seat,  containing  in  the  common 
Venetian  dialect  the  words  : 

II  Dose  Falier  della  bella  muier, 
I  altri  la  gode  e  lui  la  mantien. 

(The  Doge  Falieri,  the  husband  of  the  beautiful  lady  ; 
others  kiss  her,  and  he — he  keeps  her.) 

Old  Falieri  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  passion,  and 
swore  that  the  severest  punishment  should  overtake 
the  man  who  had  been  guilty  of  this  audacious  offence. 
As  he  cast  his  eyes  about  they  fell  upon  Michele  Steno 
standing  beneath  the  balcony  in  the  Square,  in  the  full 
light  of  the  torches  ;  he  at  once  commanded  his  guards 
to  arrest  him  as  the  instigator  of  the  outrage.  This 
command  of  the  Doge's  provoked  a  universal  cry  of 
dissent ;  in  giving  way  to  his  overmastering  rage  he 
was  offering  insult  to  both  Seignory  and  populace,  vio- 
lating the  rights  of  the  former,  and  spoiling  the  latter's 
enjoyment  of  their  holiday.  The  members  of  the 
Seignory  left  their  places  ;  but  old  Marino  Bodoeri 
mixed  among  the  people,  actively  representing  the 
grave  nature  of  the  outrage  that  had  been  done  to  the 
head  of  the  state,  and  seeking  to  direct  the  popular 
hatred  upon  Michele  Steno.  Nor  had  Falieri  judged 
wrongly  ;  for  Michele  Steno,  on  being  expelled  from 
the  Duke's  balcony,  had  really  hurried  off  home,  and 
there  written  the  above-mentioned  slanderous  words  ; 
then  when  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  artificial  fire, 
he  had  fastened  the  strip  of  paper  to  the  Doge's  seat, 
and  withdrawn  from  the  gallery  again  unobserved.  He 
maliciously  hoped  it  would  be  a  galling  blow  for  them, 
Vol.  II.— 4 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


for  both  the  Doge  and  the  Dogess,  and  that  the  wound 
would  rankle  deeply — so  deeply  as  to  touch  -a  vital 
part.  Willingly  and  openly  he  admitted  the  deed,  and 
transferred  all  blame  to  the  Doge,  since  he  had  been 
the  first  to  give  umbrage  to  him. 

The  Seignory  had  been  for  some  time  dissatisfied 
with  their  chief,  for  instead  of  meeting  the  just  expec- 
tations of  the  state,  he  gave  proofs  daily  that  the  fiery 
warlike  courage  in  his  frozen  and  worn-out  heart  was 
merely  like  the  artificial  fire  which  bursts  with  a  furious 
rush  out  of  the  rocket-apparatus,  but  immediately  dis- 
appears in  black  lifeless  flakes,  and  has  accomplished 
nothing.  Moreover,  since  his  union  with  his  young 
and  beautiful  wife  (it  had  long  before  leaked  out  that 
he  was  married  to  her  directly  after  attaining  to  the 
Dogate)  old  Falieri's  jealousy  no  longer  let  him  appear 
in  the  character  of  heroic  captain,  but  rather  of  vechio 
Pantalone  (old  fool) ;  hence  it  was  that  the  Seignory, 
nursing  their  swelling  resentment,  were  more  inclined  to 
condone  Michele  Steno's  fault,  than  to  see  justice  done 
to  their  deeply-wounded  chief.  The  matter  was  re- 
ferred by  the  Council  of  Ten  to  the  Forty,  one  of  the 
leaders  of  which  Michele  had  formerly  been.  The  ver- 
dict was  that  Michele  Steno  had  already  suffered  suffi- 
ciently, and  a  month's  banishment  was  quite  punish- 
ment enough  for  the  offence.  This  sentence  only 
served  to  feed  anew  and  more  fully  old  Falieri's  bitter- 
ness against  a  Seignory  which,  instead  of  protecting 
their  own  head,  had  the  impudence  to  punish  insults 
that  were  offered  to  him  as  they  would  offences  of 
merely  the  most  insignificant  description. 

As  generally  happens  in  the  case  of  lovers,  once  a 
single  ray  of  the  happiness  of  love  has  fallen  upon 
them,  they  are  surrounded  for  days  and  weeks  and 
months  by  a  sort  of  golden  veil,  and  dream  dreams  of 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


5i 


Paradise  ;  and  so  Antonio  could  not  recover  himself 
from  the  stupefying  rapture  of  that  happy  moment  ; 
he  could  hardly  breathe  for  delirious  sadness.  He  had 
been  well  scolded  by  the  old  woman  for  running  such 
a  great  risk  ;  and  she  never  ceased  mumbling  and 
grumbling  about  exposure  to  unneccessary  danger. 

But  one  day  she  came  hopping  and  dancing  with 
her  staff  in  the  strange  way  she  had  when  apparently 
affected  by  some  foreign  magical  influence.  Without 
heeding  Antonio's  words  and  questions,  she  began  to 
chuckle  and  laugh,  and  kindling  a  small  fire  in  the 
stove,  she  put  a  little  pan  on  it,  into  which  she  poured 
several  ingredients  from  many  various-coloured  phials, 
and  made  a  salve,  which  she  put  into  a  little  box  ;  then 
she  limped  out  of  the  house  again,  chuckling  and 
laughing.  She  did  not  return  until  late  at  night,  when 
she  sat  down  in  the  easy-chair,  panting  and  coughing 
for  breath  ;  and  after  she  had  in  a  measure  recovered 
from  her  great  exhaustion,  she  at  length  began, 
"  Tonino,  my  boy  Tonino,  whom  do  you  think  I  have 
come  from  ?  See — try  if  you  can  guess.  Whom  do  I 
come  from  ?  where  have  I  been  ? "  Antonio  looked 
at  her,  and  a  singular  instinctive  feeling  took  posses- 
sion of  him.  *  Well  now,"  chuckled  the  old  woman, 
"  I  have  come  from  her — her  herself,  from  the  pretty 
dove,  lovely  Annunciata."  "  Don't  drive  me  mad,  old 
Ivoman  !  "  shouted  Antonio.  "  What  do  you  say  ?  " 
continued  she,  "  I  am  always  thinking  about  you,  my 
Tonino. 

"This  morning,  whilst  I  was  haggling  for  some  fine 
fruit  under  the  peristyle  of  the  Palace,  I  heard  the 
people  talking  with  bated  breath  of  the  accident  that 
had  befallen  the  beautiful  Dogess.  I  inquired  again 
and  again  of  several  people,  and  at  last  a  big,  unculti- 
vated, red  haired  fellow,  who  stood  leaning  against  a 


52 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


column,  yawning  and  chawing  lemons,  said  to  me, 
'  Oh  well,  a  young  scorpion  has  been  trying  its  little 
teeth  on  the  little  finger  of  her  left  hand,  and  there's 
been  a  drop  or  two  of  blood  shed — that's  all.  My 
master,  Signor  Doctor  Giovanni  Basseggio,  is  now  in 
the  palace,  and  he  has,  no  doubt,  before  this  cut  off 
her  pretty  hand,  and  the  finger  with  it.'  Just  as  the 
fellow  was  telling  me  this  there  arose  a  great  noise  on 
the  broad  steps,  and  a  little  man — such  a  tiny  little 
man — came  rolling  down  at  our  feet,  screaming  and 
lamenting,  for  the  guards  had  kicked  him  down  as  if 
he  had  been  a  ninepin.  The  people  gathered  round 
him,  laughing  heartily  ;  the  little  man  struggled  and 
fought  with  Iiis  legs  in  the  air  without  being  able  to 
get  up  ;  but  the  red-haired  fellow  rushed  forward, 
snatched  up  the  little  doctor,  tucked  him  under  his 
arm,  and  ran  off  with  him  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 
carry  him  to  the  Canal,  where  he  got  into  a  gondola 
with  him  and  rowed  away — the  little  doctor  screaming 
and  yelling  with  all  his  might  the  whole  time.  I  knew 
how  it  was  ;  just  as  Signor  Basseggio  was  getting  his 
knife  ready  to  cut  off  the  pretty  hand,  the  Doge  had 
had  him  kicked  down  the  steps.  I  also  thought  of 
something  else — quick — quick  as  you  can — go  home — 
make  a  salve — and  then  come  back  here  to  the  Ducal 
Palace. 

"  And  I  stood  on  the  great  stairs  with  my  bright 
little  phial  in  my  hand.  Old  Falieri  was  just  coming 
down  ;  he  darted  a  glance  at  me,  and,  his  choler 
rising,  said,  '  What  does  this  old  woman  want  here  ? " 
Then  I  curtsied  low— quite  down  to  the  ground — as 
well  as  I  could,  and  told  him  that  I  had  a  nice  remedy 
which  wTould  very  soon  cure  the  beautiful  Dogess. 
When  the  old  man  heard  that,  he  fixed  a  terrible  keen 
look  upon  me,  and  stroked  his  grey  beard  into  order ; 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


53 


then  he  seized  me  by  both  shoulders  and  pushed  me 
upstairs  and  on  into  the  chamber,  where  I  nearly  fell 
all  my  length.  O  Tonino,  there  was  the  pretty  child 
reclining  on  a  couch,  as  pale  as  death,  sighing  and 
moaning  with  pain  and  softly  lamenting,  *  Oh  !  I  am 
poisoned  in  every  vein.'  But  I  at  once  set  to  work 
and  took  off  the  simple  doctor's  silly  plaster.  O  just 
Heaven  !  her  dear  little  hand — all  red  as  red — and  swol- 
len. Well,  well,  my  salve  cooled  it — soothed  it.  '  That 
does  it  good  ;  yes,  that  does  it  good.'  softly  whispered 
the  sick  darling.  Then  Marino  cried  quite  delighted, 
'You  shall  have  a  thousand  sequins,  old  woman,  if 
you  save  me  the  Dogess  ; '  and  therewith  he  left  the 
room. 

"  For  three  hours  I  sat  there,  holding  her  little  hand 
in  mine,  stroking  and  attending  to  it.  Then  the  darling 
woman  woke  up  out  of  the  gentle  slumber  into  which 
she  had  fallen,  and  no  longer  felt  any  pain.  After  I 
had  made  a  fresh  poultice,  she  looked  at  me  with  eyes 
brimming  with  gladness.  Then  I  said,  •  O  most  noble 
lady,  you  once  saved  a  boy's  life  when  you  killed  the 
little  snake  that  was  about  to  attack  him  as  he  slept.' 
O  Tonino,  you  should  have  seen  the  hot  blood  rush 
into  her  pale  face,  as  if  a  ray  of  the  setting  sun  had 
fallen  upon  it — and  how  her  eyes  flashed  with  the  fire 
of  joy.  1  Oh  !  yes,  old  woman,'  she  said,  '  oh  !  I  was 
quite  a  child  then — it  was  at  my  father's  country  villa. 
Oh  !  he  was  a  dear  pretty  boy — I  often  think  of  him 
now.  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  had  a  single  happy  ex- 
perience since  that  time.'  Then  I  began  to  talk  about 
you,  that  you  were  in  Venice,  that  your  heart  still  beat 
with  the  love  and  rapture  of  that  moment,  that,  in 
order  to  gaze  once  more  in  the  heavenly  eyes  of  the 
angel  who  saved  you,  you  had  faced  the  risk  of  the 
dangerous  aerial  voyage,  that  you  it  was  who  had  given 


54 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


her  the  nosegay  on  Holy  Thursday.  '  O  Tonino,  To- 
nino,'  she  cried  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  '  I  felt  it,  I  felt 
it  ;  when  he  pressed  my  hand  to  his  lips,  when  he  named 
my  name,  I  could  not  conceive  why  it  went  so  strangely 
to  my  heart  ;  it  was  indeed  pleasure,  but  pain  as  well. 
Bring  him  here,  bring  him  to  me — the  pretty  boy.'  " 
As  the  old  woman  said  this  Antonio  threw  himself  upon 
his  knees  and  cried  like  one  insane,  "  O  good  God ! 
pray  let  no  dire  fate  overtake  me  now — now  at  least — 
until  I  have  seen  her,  have  pressed  her  to  my  heart." 
He  wanted  the  old  woman  to  take  him  to  the  Palace 
the  very  next  day  ;  but  she  flatly  refused,  since  old 
Falieri  was  in  the  habit  of  paying  visits  to  his  sick  wife 
nearly  every  hour  that  came. 

Several  days  went  by  ;  the  old  woman  had  completely 
cured  the  Dogess  ;  but  as  yet  it  had  been  quite  impos- 
sible to  take  Antonio  to  see  her.  The  old  woman 
soothed  his  impatience  as  wrell  as  she  could,  always  re- 
peating that  she  was  constantly  talking  to  beautiful 
Annunciata  about  the  Antonio  whose  life  she  had  saved, 
and  who  loved  her  so  passionately.  Tormented  by  all 
the  pangs  of  desire  and  yearning  love,  Antonio  spent 
his  time  in  going  about  in  his  gondola  and  restlessly 
traversing  the  squares.  But  his  footsteps  involuntarily 
turned  time  after  time  in  the  direction  of  the  Ducal 
Palace.  One  day  he  saw  Pietro  standing  on  the  bridge 
close  to  the  back  part  of  the  Palace,  opposite  the  pris- 
ons, leaning  on  a  gay-coloured  oar,  whilst  a  gondola, 
fastened  to  one  of  the  pillars,  was  rocking  on  the  Canal. 
Although  small,  it  had  a  comfortable  little  deck,  was 
adorned  with  tasteful  carvings,  and  even  decorated  with 
the  Venetian  Hag,  so  that  it  bore  some  resemblance  to 
the  Bucentaur.  As  soon  as  Pietro  saw  his  former  com- 
rade he  shouted  out  to  him,  "  Hi  !  Signor  Antonio, 
the  best  of  good  greetings  to  you  ;  your  sequins  have 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


55 


brought  me  good  luck."  Antonio  asked  somewhat  ab- 
sently what  sort  of  good  luck  he  meant,  and  learned 
the  important  intelligence  that  nearly  every  evening 
Pietro  had  to  take  the  Doge  and  Dogess  in  his  gondola 
across  to  Giudecca,  where  the  Doge  had  a  nice  house 
not  far  from  San  Giorgio  Maggiore.  Antonio  stared 
at  Pietro,  and  then  burst  out  spasmodically,  "  Comrade, 
you  may  earn  another  ten  sequins  and  more  if  you  like. 
Let  me  take  your  place  ;  I  will  row  the  Doge  over." 
But  Pietro  informed  him  that  he  could  not  think  of 
doing  so,  for  the  Doge  knew  him  and  would  not  trust 
himself  with  anybody  else.  At  length  when  Antonio, 
his  mind  excited  by  all  the  tortures  of  love,  began  to 
give  way  to  unbridled  anger,  and  violently  importune 
him,  and  to  swear  in  an  insane  and  ridiculous  fashion 
that  he  would  leap  after  the  gondola  and  drag  it  down 
under  the  sea,  Pietro  replied  laughing,  "Why,  Signor 
Antonio,  Signor  Antonio,  why,  I  declare  you  have  quite 
lost  yourself  in  the  Dogess's  beautiful  eyes."  But  he 
consented  to  allow  Antonio  to  go  with  him  as  his  assist- 
ant in  rowing  ;  he  would  excuse  it  to  old  Falieri  on 
the  ground  of  the  weight  of  the  boat,  as  well  as  being 
himself  a  little  weak  and  unwell,  and  old  Falieri  did 
always  think  the  gondola  went  too  slowly  on  this  trip. 
Off  Antonio  ran,  and  he  only  just  returned  to  the  bridge 
in  time,  dressed  in  coarse  oarsman's  clothing,  his  face 
stained,  and  with  a  long  moustache  stuck  above  his 
lips,  for  the  Doge  came  down  from  the  Palace  with  the 
Dogess,  both  attired  most  splendidly  and  magnificently. 
u  Who's  that  stranger  fellow  there  ?  "  began  the  Doge 
angrily  to  Pietro  ;  and  it  required  all  Pietro's  most 
solemn  asseverations  that  he  really  required  an  assist- 
ant, before  the  old  man  could  be  induced  to  allow 
Antonio  to  help  row  the  gondola. 

It  often  happens  that  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest  de- 


56 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOG  ESS. 


lirium  of  delight  and  rapture  the  soul,  strengthened  as 
it  were  by  the  power  of  the  moment,  is  able  to  impose 
fetters  upon  itself,  and  to  control  the  flames  of  passion 
which  threaten  to  blaze  out  from  the  heart.  In  a  sim- 
ilar way  Antonio,  albeit  he  was  close  beside  the  lovely 
Annunciata  and  the  seam  of  her  dress  touched  him,  was 
able  to  hide  his  consuming  passion  by  maintaining  a 
firm  and  powerful  hold  upon  his  oar,  and,  whilst  avoid- 
ing any  greater  risk,  by  only  glancing  at  her  momen- 
tarily now  and  then.  Old  Falieri  was  all  smirks  and 
smiles  ;  he  kissed  and  fondled  beautiful  Annunciata's 
little  white  hands,  and  threw  his  arm  around  her  slen- 
der waist.  In  the  middle  of  the  channel,  when  St. 
Mark's  Square  and  magnificent  Venice  with  all  her 
proud  towers  and  palaces  lay  extended  before  them, 
old  Falieri  raised  his  head  and  said,  gazing  proudly 
about  him,  "  Now,  my  darling,  is  it  not  a  grand  thing 
to  ride  on  the  sea  with  the  lord — the  husband  of  the 
sea  ?  Yes,  my  darling,  don't  be  jealous  of  my  bride, 
who  is  submissively  bearing  us  on  her  broad  bosom. 
Listen  to  the  gentle  splashing  of  the  wavelets ;  are 
they  not  words  of  love  which  she  is  whispering  to  the 
husband  who  rules  her  ?  Yes,  yes,  my  darling,  you 
indeed  wear  my  ring  on  your  finger,  but  she  below 
guards  in  the  depths  of  her  bosom  the  ring  of  betrothal 
which  I  threw  to  her."  "  Oh  !  my  princely  Sir,"  began 
Annunciata,  "oh  !  how  can  this  cold  treacherous  water 
be  your  bride  ?  it  quite  makes  me  shiver  to  think  that 
you  are  married  to  this  proud  imperious  element." 
Old  Falieri  laughed  till  his  chin  and  beard  tottered  and 
shook.  "  Don't  distress  yourself,  my  pet,"  he  said,  "  it's 
far  better,  of  course,  to  rest  in  your  soft  warm  arms 
than  in  the  ice-cold  lap  of  my  bride  below  there  ;  but 
it's  a  grand  thing  to  ride  on  the  sea  with  the  lord  of 
the  sea  ! "    Just  as  the  Doge  was  saying  these  words, 


THE  DOGE  AXD  DOGESS. 


57 


the  faint  strains  of  music  at  a  distance  came  floating 
towards  them.  The  notes  of  a  soft  male  voice,  gliding 
along  the  waves  of  the  sea,  came  nearer  and  nearer  ; 
the  words  that  were  sung  were — 

Ah  !  senza  amare, 
And  are  sul  mare, 
Col  sposo  del'  mare 
Non  puo  consolare. 

Other  voices  took  up  the  strain,  and  the  same  wrords 
were  repeated  again  and  again  in  every-varying  alterna- 
tion, until  the  song  died  awa  like  the  soft  breath  of 
the  wind  as  it  were.  Old  Falieri  appeared  not  to  pay 
the  slightest  heed  to  the  song  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
was  relating  to  the  Dogess  with  much  prolixity  the 
meaning  and  history  of  the  solemnity  which  takes 
place  on  Ascension  Day  when  the  Doge  throws  his 
ring  from  the  Bucentaur  and  is  married  to  the  sea. 

He  spoke  of  the  victories  of  the  republic,  and  how 
she  had  formerly  conquered  Istria  and  Dalmatia  under 
the  rule  of  Peter  Urseolus  the  Second,1  and  how  this 
ceremony  had  its  origin  in  that  conquest.  But  if  old 
Falieri  heeded  not  the  song,  so  now  his  tales  were  lost 
upon  the  Dogess.  She  sat  with  her  mind  completely 
wrapped  up  in  the  sweet  sounds  which  came  floating 
along  the  sea.  When  the  song  came  to  an  end  her  eyes 
wore  a  strange  far-off  look,  as  if  she  were  awakening 
from  a  profound  dream  and  striving  to  see  and  inter- 
pret the  images  which  sportively  mocked  her  efforts 
to  hold  them  fast.  "Senza  amare,  senza  amare,  non 
puo  consolare"  she  whispered  softly,  whilst  the  tears 
glistened  like  bright  pearls  in  her  heavenly  eyes,  and 


1  Pietro  Urseolo  II.  was  Doge  from  991  to  1009  ;  Dalmatia  was 
Subdued  in  997. 


58 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


sighs  escaped  her  breast  as  it  heaved  and  sank  with  the 
violence  of  her  emotions.  Still  smirking  and  smiling 
and  talking  away,  the  old  man,  with  the  Dogess  at  his 
side,  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony  of  his  house  near 
San  Giorgio  Maggiore,  without  noticing  that  Annun- 
ciata  stood  at  his  side  like  one  in  a  dream,  speechless, 
her  tearful  eyes  fixed  upon  some  far-off  land,  whilst  her 
heart  was  agitated  by  feelings  of  a  singular  and  myste- 
rious character.  A  young  man  in  gondolier's  costume 
blew  a  blast  on  a  conch-shaped  horn,  till  the  sounds 
echoed  far  away  over  the  sea.  At  this  signal  another 
gondola  drew  near.  Meanwhile  an  attendant  bearing 
a  sunshade  and  a  maid  had  approached  the  Doge  and 
Dogess  ;  and  thus  attended  they  went  towards  the  pal- 
ace. The  second  gondola  came  to  shore,  and  from  it 
stepped  forth  Marino  Bodoeri  and  several  other  per- 
sons, amongst  whom  were  merchants,  artists,  nay  peo- 
ple out  of  the  lowest  classes  of  the  populace  even  ; 
and  they  followed  the  Doge. 

Antonio  could  hardly  wait  until  the  following 
evening,  since  he  hoped  then  to  have  the  desired 
message  from  his  beloved  Annunciata.  At  last — at 
last  the  old  woman  came  limping  in,  dropped  panting 
into  the  arm-chair,  and  clapped  her  thin  bony  hands 
together  again  and  again,  crying.  "  Tonino,  O  Tonino  ! 
what  in  the  world  has  happened  to  our  dear  darling  ? 
When  I  went  into  her  room,  there  she  lay  on  the  couch 
with  her  eyes  half  closed,  her  pretty  head  resting  on 
her  arm,  neither  slumbering  nor  awake,  neither  sick 
nor  well.  I  approached  her  :  '  Oh  !  noble  lady,'  said  I, 
'  what  misfortune  has  happened  to  you  ?  Does  your 
scarce-healed  wound  hurt  you  still  ? '  But  she  looked 
at  me,  oh  !  with  such  eyes,  Antonio  —  I  have  never 
seen  anything  like  them.  And  directly  I  looked  down 
into  the  humid  moonlight  that  was  in  them,  they  with- 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


59 


drew  behind  the  dark  clouds  of  their  silken  lashes. 
Then  sighing  a  sigh  that  came  from  the  depths  of  her 
heart,  she  turned  her  lovely  pale  face  to  the  wall  and 
whispered  softly — so  softly,  but  oh  !  so  sadly !  that  I 
was  cut  right  to  the  heart,  '  A  mare — amare — ah!  senza 
amare!'  I  fetched  a  little  chair  and  sat  down  beside 
her,  and  began  to  talk  about  you.  She  buried  herself 
in  the  cushions  ;  and  her  breathing,  coming  quicker 
and  quicker  and  quicker,  turned  to  sighing.  I  told  her 
candidly  that  you  had  been  in  the  gondola  disguised,  and 
that  I  would  now  at  once  without  delay  take  you,  who 
were  dying  of  love  and  longing,  to  see  her.  Then  she 
suddenly  started  up  from  the  cushions,  and  whilst  the 
scalding  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks,  she  exclaimed 
vehemently,  *  For  God's  sake  !  By  all  the  Holy  Saints  ! 
no — no — I  cannot  see  him,  old  woman.  I  conjure  you, 
tell  him  he  is  never — never  again  to  come  near  me — 
never.  Tell  him  he  is  to  leave  Venice,  to  go  away  at 
once  ! '  *  So  then  you  will  let  my  poor  Antonio  die  ? ' 
I  interposed.  Then  she  sank  back  upon  the  cushions, 
apparently  smarting  from  the  most  unutterable  anguish, 
and  her  voice  was  almost  choked  with  tears  as  she 
sobbed  out,  '  Shall  not  I  also  die  the  bitterest  of 
deaths  ? '  At  this  point,  old  Falieri  entered  the  room, 
and  at  a  sign  from  him  I  had  to  withdraw."  "  She  has 
rejected  me — away — away  into  the  sea  !  "  cried  Anto- 
nio, giving  way  to  utter  despair.  The  old  woman 
chuckled  and  laughed  in  her  usual  way,  and  went  on, 
"You  simple  child!  you  simple  child!  don't  you  see 
that  lovely  Annunciata  loves  you  with  all  the  intensity, 
with  all  the  agonised  love  of  which  a  woman's  heart  is 
capable  ?  You  simple  boy  !  Late  to-morrow  evening 
slip  into  the  Ducal  Palace  ;  you  will  find  me  in  the 
second  gallery  on  the  right  from  the  great  staircase, 
and  then  we  will  see  what's  to  be  done." 


6o 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


The  following  evening  as  Antonio,  trembling  with 
expectant  happiness,  stole  up  the  great  staircase,  his 
conscience  suddenly  smote  him,  as  though  he  were 
about  to  commit  some  great  crime.  He  was  so  dazed, 
and  he  trembled  and  shook  so,  that  he  was  scarcely- 
able  to  climb  the  stairs.  He  had  to  stop  and  rest  by- 
leaning  himself  against  a  column  immediately  in  front 
of  the  gallery  that  had  been  indicated  to  him.  All  at 
once  he  was  plunged  in  the  midst  of  a  bright  glare  of 
torches,  and  before  he  could  move  from  the  place  old 
Bodoeri  stood  in  front  of  him,  accompanied  by  some 
servants,  who  bore  the  torches.  Bodoeri  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  the  young  man,  and  then  said,  "  Ha  !  you  are 
Antonio  ;  you  have  been  assigned  this  post,  I  know  ; 
come,  follow  me."  Antonio,  convinced  that  his  pro- 
posed interview  with  the  Dogess  was  betrayed,  followed, 
not  without  trembling.  But  imagine  his  astonishment 
when,  on  entering  a  remote  room,  Bodoeri  embraced 
him  and  spoke  of  the  importance  of  the  post  that  had 
been  assigned  to  him,  and  which  he  would  have  to 
maintain  with  courage  and  firm  resolution  that  very 
night.  But  his  amazement  increased  to  anxious  fear 
and  dismay  when  he  learned  that  a  conspiracy  had  been 
long  ripening  against  the  Seignory,  and  that  at  the 
head  of  it  was  the  Doge  himself.  And  this  was  the 
night  in  which,  agreeably  to  the  resolutions  come  to 
in  Falieri's  house  on  Giudecca,  the  Seignory  was  to  fall 
and  old  Marino  Falieri  was  to  be  proclaimed  sovereign 
Duke  of  Venice. 

Antonio  stared  at  Bodoeri  without  uttering  a  word  ; 
Bodoeri  interpreted  the  young  man's  silence  as  a 
refusal  to  take  part  in  the  execution  of  the  formidable 
conspiracy,  and  he  cried  incensed,  "You  cowardly 
fool !  You  shall  not  leave  this  palace  again  ;  you 
shall  either  take  up  arms  on  our  side  or  die — but  talk 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


61 


to  this  man  first."  A  tall  and  noble  figure  stepped 
forward  from  the  dark  background  of  the  apartment. 
As  soon  as  Antonio  saw  the  man's  face,  which  he 
could  not  do  until  he  came  into  the  light  of  the 
torches,  and  recognised  it,  he  threw  himself  upon  his 
knees  and  cried,  completely  losing  his  presence  of 
mind  at  seeing  him  whom  he  never  dreamt  of  seeing 
again,  "  O  good  God  !  my  father,  Bertuccio  Nenolo  ! 
my  dear  foster-parent."  Nenolo  raised  the  young 
man  up,  clasped  him  in  his  arms,  and  said  in  a  gentle 
voice,  "  Aye,  of  a  verity  I  am  Bertuccio  Nenolo,  whom 
you  perhaps  thought  lay  buried  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea,  but  I  have  only  quite  recently  escaped  from  my 
shameful  captivity  at  the  hands  of  the  savage  Mor- 
bassan.  Yes,  I  am  the  Bertuccio  Nanolo  who  adopted 
you.  And  I  never  for  a  moment  dreamt  that  the 
stupid  servants  whom  Bodoeri  sent  to  take  possession 
of  the  villa,  which  he  had  bought  of  me,  would  turn 
you  out  of  the  house.  You  infatuated  youth  !  Do 
you  hesitate  to  take  up  arms  against  a  despotic  caste 
whose  cruelty  robbed  you  of  a  father  ?  Ay  !  go  down 
to  the  quadrangle  of  the  Fontego,  and  the  stains  which 
you  will  there  see  on  the  stone  pavements  are  the 
stains  of  your  father's  blood.  The  Seignory  when 
making  over  to  the  German  merchants  the  depot  and 
exchange  which  you  know  under  the  name  of  the 
Fontego,  forbade  all  those  who  had  offices  assigned 
to  them  to  take  the  keys  with  them  when  they  went 
away  ;  they  were  to  leave  them  with  the  official  in 
charge  of  the  Fontego.  Your  father  acted  contrary 
to  this  law,  and  had  therefore  incurred  a  heavy  pen- 
alty. But  now  when  the  offices  were  opened  on  your 
father's  return,  there  was  found  amongst  his  wares  a 
chest  of  false  Venetian  coins.  He  vainly  protested 
his  innocence  ;   it  was  only  too  evident  that  some 


62 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


malicious  fiend,  perhaps  the  official  in  charge  himself, 
had  smuggled  in  the  chest  in  order  to  ruin  your  father. 
The  inexorable  judges,  satisfied  that  the  chest  had 
been  found  in  your  father's  offices,  condemned  him 
to  death.  He  was  executed  in  the  quadrangle  of  the 
Fontego  ;  nor  would  you  now  be  living  if  faithful 
Margaret  had  not  saved  you.  I,  your  father's  truest 
friend,  adopted  you  ;  and  in  order  that  you  might  not 
betray  yourself  to  the  Seignory,  you  were  not  told 
what  was  your  father's  name.  But  now — now,  An- 
thony Dalbirger, — now  is  the  time — now,  to  seize  your 
arms  and  revenge  upon  the  heads  of  the  Seignory  your 
father's  shameful  death." 

Antonio,  fired  by  the  spirit  of  vengeance,  swore  to 
be  true  to  the  conspirators  and  to  act  with  invincible 
courage.  It  is  well  known  that  it  was  the  affront  put 
upon  Bertuccio  Nenolo  by  Dandulo  wdien  he  was 
appointed  to  superintend  the  naval  preparations,  and 
on  the  occasion  of  a  quarrel  struck  Nenolo  in  the  face, 
that  induced  him  to  join  with  his  ambitious  son-in- 
law  in  his  conspiracy  against  the  Seignory.  Both 
Nenolo  and  Bodoeri  were  desirious  for  old  Falieri  to 
assume  the  princely  mantle  in  order  that  they  might 
themselves  rise  along  with  him.  The  conspirators' 
plan  was  to  spread  abroad  the  news  that  the  Genoese 
fleet  lay  before  the  Lagune.  Then  when  night  came 
the  great  bell  in  St.  Mark's  Tower  was  to  be  rung, 
and  the  town  summoned  to  arms,  under  the  false 
pretext  of  defence.  This  was  to  be  the  signal  for  the 
conspirators,  whose  numbers  were  considerable,  and 
who  were  scattered  throughout  all  Venice,  to  occupy 
St.  Mark's  Square,  make  themselves  masters  of  the 
remaining  principal  squares  of  the  town,  murder  the 
leading  men  of  the  Seignory,  and  proclaim  the  Doge 
sovereign  Duke  of  Venice. 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


63 


But  it  was  not  the  will  of  Heaven  that  this  murder- 
ous scheme  should  succeed,  nor  that  the  fundamental 
constitution  of  the  harassed  state  should  be  trampled  in 
the  dust  by  old  Falieri — a  man  inflamed  with  pride  and 
haughtiness.  The  meetings  in  Falieri's  house  on  Giu- 
decca  had  not  escaped  the  watchfulness  of  the  Ten  ; 
but  they  failed  altogether  to  learn  any  reliable  intelli- 
gence. But  the  conscience  of  one  of  the  conspirators, 
a  fur-merchant  of  Pisa,  Bentian  by  name,  pricked  him  ; 
he  resolved  to  save  from  destruction  his  friend  and  gos- 
sip, Nicolas  Leoni,  a  member  of  the  Council  of  Ten. 
When  twilight  came  on,  he  went  to  him  and  besought 
him  not  to  leave  his  house  during  the  night,  no  matter 
what  occurred.  Leoni's  suspicion  was  aroused  ;  he  de- 
tained the  fur-merchant,  and  on  pressing  him  closely 
learned  the  whole  scheme.  In  conjunction  wTith  Gio- 
vanni Gradenigo  and  Marco  Cornaro  he  called  the 
Council  of  Ten  together  in  St.  Salvador's  (church)  ;  and 
there,  in  less  than  three  hours,  measures  were  taken 
calculated  to  stifle  all  the  efforts  of  the  conspirators  on 
the  first  sign  of  movement. 

Antonio's  commission  was  to  take  a  body  of  men  and 
go  to  St.  Mark's  Tower,  and  see  that  the  bell  was  tolled. 
Arrived  there,  he  found  the  tower  occupied  by  a  large 
force  of  Arsenal  troops,  who,  on  his  attempting  to  ap- 
proach, charged  upon  him  with  their  halberds.  His 
own  band,  seized  with  a  sudden  panic,  scattered  like 
chaff  ;  and  he  himself  slipped  away  in  the  darkness  of 
the  night.  But  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  a  man  follow- 
ing close  at  his  heels  ;  he  felt  him  lay  hands  upon  him, 
and  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  cutting  his  pursuer 
down  when  by  means  of  a  sudden  flash  of  light  he  rec- 
ognised Pietro.  "  Save  yourself,"  cried  he,  "  save  your- 
self, Antonio, — here  in  my  gondola.  All  is  betrayed. 
Bodoeri — Nenolo — are  in  the  power  of  the  Seignory  ; 


64 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOG  ESS. 


the  doors  of  the  Ducal  Palace  are  closed  ;  the  Doge  is 
confined  a  prisoner  in  his  own  apartment — watched  like 
a  criminal  by  his  own  faithless  guards.  Come  along — 
make  haste — get  away."  Almost  stupefied,  Antonio 
suffered  himself  to  be  dragged  into  the  gondola.  Muf- 
fled voices  —  the  clash  of  weapons  —  single  cries  for 
help — then  with  the  deepest  blackness  of  the  night 
there  followed  a  breathless  awful  silence.  Next  morn- 
ing the  populace,  stricken  with  terror,  beheld  a  fearful 
sight ;  it  made  every  man's  blood  run  cold  in  his  veins. 
The  Council  of  the  Ten  had  that  very  same  night 
passed  sentence  of  death  upon  the  leaders  of  the  con- 
spiracy who  had  been  seized.  They  were  strangled, 
and  suspended  from  the  balcony  at  the  side  of  the  Pal- 
ace overlooking  the  Piazzetta,  the  one  whence  the  Doge 
was  in  the  habit  of  witnessing  all  ceremonies,— and 
where,  alas  !  Antonio  had  hovered  in  the  air  before  the 
lovely  Annunciata,  and  where  she  had  received  from 
him  the  nosegay  of  flowers.  Amongst  the  corpses  were 
those  of  Marino  Bodoeri  and  Bertuccio  Nenolo.  Two 
days  later  old  Marino  Falieri  was  sentenced  to  death 
by  the  Council  of  Ten,  and  executed  on  the  so-called 
Giant  Stairs  of  the  Palace. 

Antonio  wandered  about  unconsciously,  like  a  man 
in  a  dream  ;  no  one  laid  hands  upon  him,  for  no  one 
recognised  him  as  having  been  of  the  number  of  the 
conspirators.  On  seeing  old  Falieri's  grey  head  fall, 
he  started  up,  as  it  were,  out  of  his  death-like  trance. 
With  a  most  unearthly  scream — with  the  shout,  "  An- 
nunciata ! "  he  rushed  storming  in  the  Palace,  and 
along  the  passages.  Nobody  stopped  him  ;  the  guards, 
as  if  stupefied  by  the  terrible  thing  that  had  just  taken 
place,  only  stared  after  him.  The  old  crone  came  to 
meet  him,  loudly  lamenting  and  complaining ;  she 
seized  his  hand  and — a  few  steps  more,  and  along  with 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


65 


her  he  entered  Annunciata's  room.  There  she  lay, 
poor  thing,  on  the  couch,  as  if  already  dead.  Antonio 
rushed  towards  her  and  covered  her  hands  with  burn- 
ing kisses,  calling  her  by  the  sweetest  and  tenderest 
names. 

Then  she  slowly  opened  her  lovely  heavenly  eyes 
and  saw  Antonio  ;  at  first,  however,  it  appeared  as  if 
it  cost  her  an  effort  to  call  him  to  mind  ;  but  speedily 
she  raised  herself  up,  threw  both  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  drew  him  to  her  bosom,  showering  down 
her  hot  tears  upon  him  and  kissing  his  cheeks — his 
lips.  "Antonio — my  Antonio — I  love  you,  oh  !  more 
than  I  can  tell  you — yes,  yes,  there  is  a  heaven  on 
earth.  What  are  my  father's  and  my  uncle's  and  my 
husband's  death  in  comparison  with  the  blissful  joy 
of  your  love  ?  Oh  !  let  us  flee — flee  from  this  scene  of 
blood  and  murder."  Thus  spake  Annunciata,  her 
heart  rent  by  the  bitterest  anguish,  as  well  as  by  the 
most  passionate  love.  Amid  thousands  of  kisses  and 
never-ending  tears,  the  two  lovers  mutually  swore 
eternal  fidelity  ;  and,  forgetting  the  fearful  events  of 
the  terrible  day  that  was  past,  they  turned  their  eyes 
from  the  earth  and  looked  up  into  the  heaven  which 
the  spirit  of  love  had  unfolded  to  their  view.  The  old 
woman  advised  them  to  flee  to  Chiozza ;  thence  An- 
tonio intended  to  travel  in  an  opposite  direction  by 
land  towards  his  own  native  country. 

His  friend,  Pietro,  procured  him  a  small  boat  and  had 
it  brought  to  the  bridge  behind  the  Palace.  When 
night  came,  Annunciata,  enveloped  in  a  thick  shawl, 
crept  stealthily  down  the  steps  with  her  lover,  attended 
by  old  Margaret,  who  bore  some  valuable  jewel  caskets 
in  her  hood.  They  reached  the  bridge  unobserved,  and 
unobserved  they  embarked  in  their  small  craft.  An- 
tonio seized  the  oar,  and  away  they  went  at  a  quick 
Vol.  II.— 5 


66 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


and  vigorous  rate.  The  bright  moonlight  danced 
along  the  waves  in  front  of  them  like  a  gladsome 
messenger  of  love.  They  reached  the  open  sea.  Then 
began  a  peculiar  whistling  and  howling  of  the  wind 
far  above  their  heads  ;  black  shadows  came  trooping 
up  and  hung  themselves  like  a  dark  veil  over  the  bright 
face  of  the  moon.  The  dancing  moonshine,  the  glad- 
some messenger  of  love,  sank  in  the  black  depths  of 
the  sea  amongst  its  muttering  thunders.  The  storm 
came  on  and  drove  the  black  piled-up  masses  of 
clouds  in  front  of  it  with  wrathful  violence.  Up  and 
down  tossed  the  boat.  "  O  help  us  !  God,  help  us !  " 
screamed  the  old  woman.  Antonio,  no  longer  master 
of  the  oar,  clasped  his  darling  Annunciata  in  his  arms, 
whilst  she,  aroused  by  his  fiery  kisses,  strained  him  to 
her  bosom  in  the  intensity  of  her  rapturous  affection. 
"O  my  Antonio  !  " — "  O  my  Annunciata  !  "  they  whis- 
pered, heedless  of  the  storm  which  raged  and  blus- 
tered ever  more  furiously.  Then  the  sea,  the  jealous 
widow  of  the  beheaded  Doge  Falieri,  stretched  up 
her  foaming  waves  as  if  they  were  giant  arms,  and 
seized  upon  the  lovers,  and  dragged  them,  along  with 
the  old  woman,  down,  down  into  her  fathomless 
depths. 

As  soon  as  the  man  in  the  mantle  had  thus  con- 
cluded his  narrative,  he  jumped  up  quickly  and  left 
the  room  with  strong  rapid  strides.  The  friends  fol- 
lowed him  with  their  eyes,  silently  and  very  much 
astonished  ;  then  they  went  to  take  another  look  at  the 
picture.  The  old  Doge  again  looked  down  upon  them 
with  a  smirk,  in  his  ridiculous  finery  and  foppish  vanity  ; 
but  when  they  carefully  looked  into  the  Dogess's  face 
they  perceived  quite  plainly  that  the  shadow  of  some 
unknown  pain — a  pain  of  which  she  only  had  a  fore- 


THE  DOGE  AND  DOGESS. 


67 


boding — was  throned  upon  her  lily  brow,  and  that 
dreamy  aspirations  of  love  gleamed  from  behind  her 
dark  lashes,  and  hovered  around  her  sweet  lips.  The 
Hostile  Power  seemed  to  be  threatening  death  and 
destruction  from  out  the  distant  sea  and  the  vaporous 
clouds  which  enshrouded  St.  Mark's.  They  now  had  a 
clear  conception  of  the  deeper  significance  of  the 
charming  picture  ;  but  so  often  as  they  looked  upon  it 
again,  all  the  sympathetic  sorrow  which  they  had  felt 
at  the  history  of  Antonio  and  Annunciata's  love  re- 
turned upon  them  and  filled  the  deepest  recesses  of 
their  souls  with  its  pleasurable  awe. 


MASTER  MARTIN,   THE  COOPER, 
AND  HIS  JOURNEYMAN? 


ELL  may  your  heart  swell  in  presentient  sadness, 


*  »  indulgent  reader,  when  your  footsteps  wander 
through  places  where  the  splendid  monuments  of  Old 
German  Art  speak,  like  eloquent  tongues,  of  the  mag- 
nificence, good  steady  industry,  and  sterling  honesty 
of  an  illustrious  age  now  long  since  passed  away.  Do 
you  not  feel  as  if  you  were  entering  a  deserted  house  ? 
The  Holy  Book  in  which  the  head  of  the  household 
read  is  still  lying  open  on  the  table,  and  the  gay  rich 
tapestry  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  spun  with  her 
own  hands  is  still  hanging  on  the  walls  ;  whilst  round 
about  in  the  bright  clean  cupboards  are  ranged  all 
kinds  of  valuable  works  of  art,  gifts  received  on  festive 
occasions.  You  could  almost  believe  a  member  of  the 
household  will  soon  enter  and  receive  you  with  genuine 
hearty  hospitality.  But  you  will  wait  in  vain  for  those 
whom  the  eternally  revolving  wheel  of  Time  has 
whirled  away ;  you  may  therefore  surrender  yourself 
to  the  sweet  dream  in  which  the  old  Masters  rise  up 
before  you  and  speak  honest  and  weighty  words  that 
sink  deeply  into  your  heart.  Then  for  the  first  time 
wTill  you  be  able  to  grasp  the  profound  significance  of 

1  Written  for  the  Leipsic  Taschenbuch  zum  geselligen  Vergnügen 
for  I 819. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


69 


their  works,  for  you  will  then  not  only  live  in,  but  you 
will  also  understand  the  age  which  could  produce  such 
masters  and  such  works.  But,  alas!  does  it  not  happen 
that,  as  you  stretch  out  your  loving  arms  to  clasp  the 
beautiful  image  of  your  dream,  it  shyly  flees  away  on 
the  light  morning  clouds  before  the  noisy  bustle  of  the 
day,  whilst  you,  your  eyes  filling  with  scalding  tears, 
gaze  after  the  bright  vision  as  it  gradually  disappears  ? 
And  so,  rudely  disturbed  by  the  life  that  is  pulsing 
about  you,  you  are  suddenly  wakened  out  of  your 
pleasant  dream,  retaining  only  the  passionate  longing 
that  thrills  your  breast  with  its  delicious  awe. 

Such  sentiments  as  these,  indulgent  reader,  have 
always  animated  the  breast  of  him  who  is  about  to  pen 
these  pages  for  you,  whenever  his  path  has  led  him 
through  the  world-renowed  city  of  Nuremberg.  Now 
lingering  before  that  wonderful  structure,  the  fountain1 
in  the  market-place,  now  contemplating  St.  Sebald's 
shrine,2  and  the  ciborium3  in  St.  Lawrence's  Church, 
and  Albert  Diirer's4  grand  pictures  in  the  castle  and 

1  The  "Beautiful  Fountain,"  as  it  is  called,  is  about  64ft.  in  height, 
and  consists  of  three  stone  Gothic  pyramids  and  many  statues  (electors 
and  heroes  and  prophets).  It  was  built  by  Schonhover  in  1355-61,  and 
restored  in  1820. 

3  St.  Sebald's  shrine  in  St.  Sebald's  Church  consists  of  a  bronze  sar- 
cophagus and  canopy  of  rich  Gothic  style.  It  stands  about  16^  ft.  high, 
and  bears  admirable  statues  of  the  Twelve  Apostles,  certain  church- 
fathers  and  prophets,  and  other  representations  of  a  semi-mythological 
character,  together  with  reliefs  illustrative  of  episodes  in  the  saint's  life. 
It  is  regarded  by  many  as  one  of  the  gems  of  German  artistic  work,  and 
is  the  result  of  thirteen  years'  labour  (1506-1519)  by  Peter  Vischer  and 
his  sons. 

3  This  ciborium  or  receptacle  for  the  host  is  the  work  of  Adam 
Krafft,  stands  about  68  feet  in  height,  and  represents  Christ's  Passion. 
The  style  is  florid  Gothic,  and  the  material  stone. 

4  Albrecht  Dürer,  born  at  Nuremberg  in  1471,  and  died  in  1528,  con- 
temporary with  Titian  and  Raphael,  the  most  truly  representative  Ger- 
man painter  as  well  as,  perhaps,  the  greatest. 


7o 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


in  the  town-house,  he  used  to  give  himself  up  entirely 
to  the  delicious  reveries  which  transported  him  into  the 
midst  of  all  the  glorious  splendours  of  the  old  Imperial 
Town.  He  thought  of  the  true-hearted  words  of  Father 
Rosenbliith 1 — 

O  Nuremberg,  thou  glorious  spot, 
Thy  honour's  bolt  was  aimed  aright, 
Sticks  in  the  mark  whereat  wisdom  shot ; 
And  truth  in  thee  hath  come  to  light. 

Many  a  picture  of  the  life  of  the  worthy  citizens  of 
that  period,  when  art  and  manual  industry  went  loyally 
and  industriously  hand  in  hand,  rose  up  brightly  before 
his  mind's  eye,  impressing  itself  upon  his  soul  in  espe- 
cially cheerful  and  pleasing  colours.  Graciously  be 
pleased,  therefore,  that  he  put  one  of  these  pictures 
before  you.  Perhaps,  as  you  gaze  upon  it,  it  may 
afford  you  gratification,  perhaps  it  may  draw  from  you 
a  good-natured  smile,  perhaps  you  may  even  come  to 
feel  yourself  at  home  in  Master  Martin's  house,  and 
may  linger  willingly  amongst  his  casks  and  tubs.  Well ! 
— Then  the  writer  of  these  pages  will  have  effected 
what  is  the  sincere  and  honest  wish  of  his  heart. 

How  Master  Martin  was  elected  "  Candle-master"  and  how 
he  returned  thanks  therefor. 

On  the  ist  of  May,  1580,  in  accordance  with  tradi- 
tionary custom  and  usage,  the  honourable  guild  of 
coopers,  or  wine-cask  makers,  of  the  free  Imperial 

1  Hans  Rosenbliith,  Meistersinger  and  Wappendichter  (Master- 
singer  and  Herald-poet),  called  the  Schnepperer  (babbler),  was  a  native 
of  Nuremberg.  Between  1431  and  1460  is  the  period  of  his  literary 
activity,  when  he  wrote  Fastnachtspiele  (developments  of  the  comic 
elements  in  Mysteries),  "  Odes"  on  Wine,  Farces,  &c.  He  marks  the 
transition  from  the  poetry  of  chivalric  life  and  manners  to  that  of 
burgher  life  and  manners. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


71 


Town  of  Nuremberg,  held  with  all  due  ceremony  a 
meeting  of  their  craft.  A  short  time  previously  one 
of  the  presidents,  or  "Candle-masters,"  as  they  were 
called,  had  been  carried  to  his  grave  ;  it  was  therefore 
necessary  to  elect  a  successor.  Choice  fell  upon  Master 
Martin.  And  in  truth  there  was  scarcely  another  who 
could  be  measured  against  him  in  the  building  of  strong 
and  well-made  casks  ;  none  understood  so  well  as  he 
the  management  of  wine  in  the  cellar;1  hence  he 
counted  amongst  his  customers  very  many  men  of  dis- 
tinction, and  lived  in  the  most  prosperous  circum- 
stances— nay,  almost  rolled  in  riches.  Accordingly, 
after  Martin  had  been  elected,  the  worthy  Councillor 
Jacobus  Paumgartner,  who,  in  his  official  character  of 
syndic,2  presided  over  the  meeting,  said,  "You  have 
done  bravely  well,  friends,  to  choose  Master  Martin  as 
your  president,  for  the  office  could  not  be  in  better 
hands.  He  is  held  in  high  esteem  by  all  who  know 
him,  not  only  on  account  of  his  great  skill,  but  on 
account  of  his  ripe  experience  in  the  art  of  keeping 
and  managing  the  rich  juice  of  the  grape.  His  steady 
industry  and  upright  life,  in  spite  of  all  the  wealth  he 
has  amassed,  may  serve  as  an  example  to  you  all.  Wel- 
come then  a  thousand  times,  goodman  Master  Martin, 
as  our  honoured  president." 

With  these  words  Paumgartner  rose  to  his  feet  and 


1  Wine  was  frequently  stored  at  this  period  on  the  cooper's  premises 
in  huge  casks,  and  afterwarcTs  drawn  off  in  smaller  casks  and  bottled. 

2  In  many  Mediaeval  German  towns  the  rulers  (Burgomaster  and 
Councillors)  were  mostly  self-elected,  power  being  in  the  hands  of  a 
lew  patrician  families.  A  Councillor  generally  attended  a  full  meet- 
ing of  a  guild  as  a  sort  of  "patron"  or  "visitor."  Compare  the  posi- 
tion which  Sir  Patrick  Charteris  occupied  with  respect  to  the  good 
citizens  of  Perth.  (See  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Fair  Maid  of  Perth,  chap, 
vii.,  et  passi?n.) 


7^ 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


took  a  few  steps  forward,  with  open  arms,  expecting 
that  Martin  would  come  to  meet  him.  The  latter  im- 
mediately placed  both  his  hands  upon  the  arms  of  his 
chair  and  raised  himself  as  expeditiously  as  his  portly 
person  would  permit  him  to  rise, — which  was  only 
slowly  and  heavily.  Then  just  as  slowly  he  strode  into 
Paumgartner's  hearty  embrace,  which,  however,  he 
scarcely  returned.  "Well,"  said  Paumgartner,  some- 
what nettled  at  this,  "  well,  Master  Martin,  are  you  not 
altogether  well  pleased  that  we  have  elected  you  to  be 
our  '  Candle-master  '  ?  "  Master  Martin,  as  was  his 
wont,  threw  his  head  back  into  his  neck,  played  with 
his  fingers  upon  his  capacious  belly,  and,  opening  his 
eyes  wide  and  thrusting  forward  his  under-lip  with  an 
air  of  superior  astuteness,  let  his  eyes  sweep  round  the 
assembly.  Then,  turning  to  Paumgartner,  he  began, 
"  Marry,  my  good  and  worthy  sir,  why  should  I  not  be 
altogether  well  pleased,  seeing  that  I  receive  what  is 
my  due  ?  Who  refuses  to  take  the  reward  of  his  honest 
labour?  Who  turns  away  from  his  threshold  the  de- 
faulting debtor  when  at  length  he  comes  to  pay  his 
long  standing  debt  ?  What  !  my  good  sirs,"  and  Martin 
turned  to  the  masters  who  sat  around,  "  what !  my  good 
sirs,  has  it  then  occurred  to  you  at  last  that  I — I  must 
be  president  of  our  honourable  guild  ?  What  do  you 
look  for  in  your  president  ?  That  he  be  the  most  skil- 
ful in  workmanship  ?  Go  look  at  my  two-tun  cask 
made  without  fire,1  my  brave  masterpiece,  and  then 
come  and  tell  me  if  there's  one  amongst  you  dare  boast 

1  The  well-known  Great  Cask  of  Heidelberg,  built  for  the  Elector 
Palatine  Ernest  Theodore  in  175 1,  is  calculated  to  hold  49,000 gallons, 
and  is  32  feet  long  and  26  feet  in  diameter.  This  is  not  the  only 
gigantic  wine  cask  that  has  been  made  in  Germany.  Other  monsters 
are  now  in  the  cellars  at  Tübingen  (made  in  1546),  Groningen  (1678), 
Königstein  (1725),  &c 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


73 


that,  so  far  as  concerns  thoroughness  and  finish,  he  has 
ever  turned  out  anything  like  it.  Do  you  desire  that 
your  president  possess  money  and  goods?  Come  to 
my  house  and  I  will  throw  open  chests  and  drawers, 
and  you  shall  feast  your  eyes  on  the  glitter  of  the 
sparkling  gold  and  silver.  Will  you  have  a  president 
who  is  respected  by  noble  and  base-born  alike  ?  Only 
ask  our  honoured  gentlemen  of  the  Council,  ask  the 
princes  and  noblemen  around  our  good  town  of  Nurem- 
berg, ask  his  Lordship,  the  Bishop  of  Bamberg,  ask 
what  they  all  think  of  Master  Martin  ?  Oh  !  I — I  don't 
think  you'll  hear  much  said  against  him."  At  the  same 
time  Master  Martin  struck  his  big  fat  belly  with  the 
greatest  self-satisfaction,  smiling  with  his  eyes  half- 
closed.  Then,  as  all  remained  silent,  nothing  being 
heard  except  a  dubious  clearing  of  the  throat  here  and 
there,  he  continued,  "  Ay  !  ay  !  I  see.  I  ought,  I  know 
very  well,  to  thank  you  all  handsomely  that  in  this 
election  the  good  Lord  above  has  at  last  seen  fit  to  en- 
lighten your  minds.  Well,  when  I  receive  the  price  of 
my  labour,  when  my  debtor  repays  me  the  borrowed 
money,  I  write  at  the  bottom  of  the  bill  or  of  the  re- 
ceipt my  '  Paid  with  thanks,  Thomas  1  Martin,  Master- 
cooper  here.'  Let  me  then  thank  you  all  from  my 
heart,  since  in  electing  me  to  be  your  president  and 
'  Candle-master  '  you  have  wiped  out  an  old  debt.  As 
for  the  rest,  I  pledge  you  that  I  will  discharge  the 
duties  of  my  office  with  all  fidelity  and  uprightness. 
In  the  hour  of  need  I  will  stand  by  the  guild  and  by 
each  of  you  to  the  very  best  of  my  abilities  with  word  and 
deed.  I  will  exert  the  utmost  diligence  to  uphold  the 
honour  and  fame  of  our  celebrated  handicraft,  without 


1  Hoffmann  calls  him  Tobias  also  lower  down,  and  then  Thomas 
again. 


74 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


bating  one  jot  of  its  present  credit.  My  honoured  syn- 
dic, and  all  you,  my  good  friends  and  masters,  I  invite 
to  come  and  partake  of  good  cheer  with  me  on  the  com- 
ing Sunday.  Then,  with  blithesome  hearts  and  minds, 
let  us  deliberate  over  a  glass  of  good  Hochheimer1  or 
Johannisberger,2  or  any  other  choice  wine  in  my  cellar 
that  your  palates  may  crave,  what  can  be  done  for  the 
furtherance  of  our  common  weal.  Once  again,  I  say 
you  shall  be  all  heartily  welcome." 

The  honest  masters'  countenances,  which  had  percep- 
tibly clouded  on  hearing  Master  Martin's  proud  words, 
now  recovered  their  serenity,  whilst  the  previous  dead 
silence  was  followed  by  the  cheerful  buzz  of  conversa- 
tion, in  which  a  good  deal  was  said  about  Master  Mar- 
tin's great  deserts,  and  also  about  his  choice  cellar.  All 
promised  tobe  present  on  the  Sunday,  and  offered  their 
hands  to  the  newly-elected  "  Candle-master,"  who  took 
them  and  shook  them  warmly,  also  drawing  a  few  of 
the  masters  a  little  towards  him,  as  if  desirous  of  em- 
bracing them.  The  company  separated  in  blithe  good- 
humour. 

What  afterwards  took  place  in  Master  Martin's  house. 

Now  it  happened  that  Councillor  Jacobus  Paum- 
gartner  had  to  pass  by  Master  Martin's  in  order  to 
reach  his  own  home  ;  and  as  they  both  stood  outside 
Master  Martin's  door,  and  Paumgartner  was  about  to 
proceed  on  his  way,  his  friend,  doffing  his  low  bonnet, 
and  bowing  respectfully  and  as  low  as  he  was  able,  said 

1  Hochheimer  is  the  name  of  a  Rhine  wine  that  has  been  celebrated 
since  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  century,  and  is  grown  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Hochheim,  a  town  in  the  district  of  Wiesbaden. 

2  Johannisberger  is  also  grown  near  Wiesbaden.  The  celebrated 
vineyard  is  said  to  cover  only  39^  acres. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


75 


to  him,  "  I  should  be  very  glad,  my  good  and  worthy 
sir,  if  you  would  not  disdain  to  step  in  and  spend  an 
hour  or  so  in  my  humble  house.  Be  pleased  to  suffer 
me  to  derive  both  profit  and  entertainment  from  your 
wise  conversation."  "Ay,  ay!  Master  Martin,  my 
friend,"  replied  Paumgartner  smiling,  "gladly  enough 
will  I  stay  a  while  with  you  ;  but  why  do  you  call  your 
house  a  humble  house  ?  I  know  very  well  that  there's 
none  of  the  richest  of  our  citizens  who  can  excel  you 
in  jewels  and  valuable  furniture.  Did  you  not  a  short 
time  ago  complete  a  handsome  building  which  makes 
your  house  one  of  the  ornaments  of  our  renowned 
Imperial  Town  ? 1  In  respect  of  its  interior  fittings  I 
say  nothing,  for  no  patrician  even  need  be  ashamed  of 
it." 

Old  Paumgartner  was  right ;  for  on  opening  the 
door,  which  was  brightly  polished  and  richly  ornament- 
ed with  brass-work,  they  stepped  into  a  spacious  en- 
trance hall  almost  resembling  a  state-room  ;  the  floor 
was  tastefully  inlaid,  fine  pictures  hung  on  the  walls, 
and  the  cupboards  and  chairs  were  all  artistically  carved. 
And  all  who  came  in  willingly  obeyed  the  direction  in- 
scribed in  verses,  according  to  olden  custom,  on  a  tab- 
let which  hung  near  the  door  : — 

Let  him  who  will  the  stairs  ascend 
See  that  his  shoes  be  rubbed  well  clean, 
Or  taken  off  were  better,  I  ween  ; 
He  thus  avoids  what  might  offend. 
A  thoughtful  man  is  well  aware 
How  he  indoors  himself  should  bear. 


1  Nuremberg  is  noted  for  its  interesting  old  houses  with  high  narrow 
gables  turned  next  the  street :  amongst  the  most  famous  are  those  be- 
longing to  the  families  of  Nassau,  Tucher,  Teller,  Petersen  (formerly 
Toppler),  and  those  of  Albrecht  Dürer  and  of  Hans  Sachs,  the  cobbler- 
poet  of  the  i6fch  century. 


76 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


It  had  been  a  hot  day,  and  now  as  the  hour  of  twi- 
light was  approached  it  began  to  be  close  and  stuffy  in 
the  rooms,  so  Master  Martin  led  his  eminent  guest  into 
the  cool  and  spacious  parlour-kitchen.  For  this  was 
the  name  applied  at  that  time  to  a  place  in  the  houses 
of  the  rich  citizens  which,  although  furnished  as  a 
kitchen,  was  never  used  as  such — all  kinds  of  valuable 
utensils  and  other  necessaries  of  housekeeping  being 
there  set  out  on  show.  Hardly  had  they  got  inside  the 
door  when  Master  Martin  shouted  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  Rose,  Rose  !  "  Then  the  door  was  immediately  opened, 
and  Rose,  Master  Martin's  only  daughter,  came  in. 

I  should  like  you,  dear  reader,  to  awaken  at  this  mo- 
ment a  vivid  recollection  of  our  great  Albrecht  Diirer's 
masterpieces  ;  I  would  wish  that  the  glorious  maidens 
whom  we  find  in  them,  with  all  their  noble  grace,  their 
sweet  gentleness  and  piety,  should  recur  to  your  mind, 
endowed  with  living  form.  Recall  the  noble  and  deli- 
cate figure,  the  beautifully  arched,  lily-white  forehead, 
the  carnation  flitting  like  a  breath  of  roses  across  the 
cheek,  the  full  sweet  cherry-red  lips, — recall  the  eyes 
full  of  pious  aspirations,  half-veiled  by  their  dark  lashes, 
like  moonlight  seen  through  dusky  foliage, — recall  the 
silky  hair,  artfully  gathered  into  graceful  plaits, — re- 
call the  divine  beauty  of  these  maidens,  and  you  will 
see  lovely  Rose.  How  else  than  in  this  way  could  the 
narrator  sketch  the  dear,  darling  child  ?  And  yet  per- 
mit me  to  remind  you  here  of  an  admirable  young  art- 
ist into  whose  heart  a  quickening  ray  has  fallen  from 
these  beautiful  old  times.  I  mean  the  German  painter 
Cornelius,1  in  Rome.    Just  as  Margaret  looks  in  Cor- 


1  Peter  von  Cornelius  (1783-1867),  founder  of  a  great  German  school 
of  historical  painting.  Going  to  Rome  in  181 1,  he  painted  a  set  of 
seven  scenes  illustrative  of  Goethe's  Faust,  having  previously  finished  a 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


77 


nelius's  drawings  to  Goethe's  mighty  Faust  when  she  ut- 
ters the  words,  "  Bin  weder  Fräulein  noch  schön  "  1  (I 
am  neither  a  lady  of  rank,  nor  yet  beautiful),  so  also 
may  Rose  have  looked  when  in  the  shyness  of  her  pure 
chaste  heart  she  felt  compelled  to  shun  addresses  that 
smacked  somewhat  too  much  of  freedom. 

Rose  bowed  low  with  child-like  respect  before  Paum- 
gartner,  and  taking  his  hand,  pressed  it  to  her  lips. 
The  crimson  colour  rushed  into  the  old  gentleman's 
pale  cheeks,  as  the  sun  when  setting  shoots  up  a  dying 
flash,  suddenly  converting  the  dark  foliage  into  gold, 
so  the  fire  of  a  youth  now  left  far  behind  gleamed  once 
more  in  his  eyes.  "  Ay  !  ay  !  "  he  cried  in  a  blithesome 
voice,  "  marry,  my  good  friend  Master  Martin,  you  are 
a  rich  and  a  prosperous  man,  but  the  best  of  all  the 
blessings  which  the  good  Lord  has  given  you  is  your 
lovely  daughter  Rose.  If  the  hearts  of  old  gentlemen 
like  us  who  sit  in  the  Town  Council  are  so  stirred  that 
we  cannot  turn  away  our  purblind  eyes  from  the  dear 
child,  who  can  find  fault  with  the  young  folks  if  they 
stop  and  stand  like  blocks  of  wood,  or  as  if  spell-bound, 
when  they  meet  your  daughter  in  the  street,  or  see  her 
at  church,  though  we  have  a  word  of  blame  for  our 
clerical  gentry,  because  on  the  Allerwiese,2  or  wherever 

set  at  Frankfort  (on  Main).  Amongst  his  many  famous  works  are  the 
Last  Judgment  in  the  Ludwig  Church  at  Munich  and  frescoes  in  the 
Glyptothek  there. 

1  Gretchen's  real  words  were  "Bin  weder  Fräulein  weder  schön." 
See  the  scene  which  follows  the  "  Hexenküche"  scene  in  the  first  part 
of  Faust. 

2  A  meadow  or  common  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  which  served 
as  a  general  place  of  recreation  and  amusement.  Nearly  every  German 
town  has  such  ;  as  the  Theresa  Meadow  at  Munich,  the  Canstatt  Meadow 
near  Stuttgart,  the  Communal  Meadow  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Main 
not  far  from  Frankfort  (see  Goethe,  Wahrheit  und  Dichtung,  near  the 
beginning),  &c. 


73 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


else  a  festival  is  held,  they  all  crowd  round  your 
daughter,  with  their  sighs,  and  loving  glances,  and 
honied  words,  to  the  vexation  of  all  other  girls  ?  Well, 
well,  Master  Martin,  you  can  choose  you  your  son-in- 
law  amongst  any  of  our  young  patricians,  or  wherever 
else  you  may  list." 

A  dark  frown  settled  on  Master  Martin's  face  ;  he 
bade  his  daughter  fetch  some  good  old  wine  ;  and  after 
she  had  left  the  room,  the  hot  blushes  mantling  thick 
and  fast  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  bent  upon  the 
floor,  he  turned  to  old  Paumgartner,  "  Of  a  verity,  my 
good  sir,  Heaven  has  dowered  my  daughter  with  ex- 
ceptional beauty,  and  herein  too  I  have  been  made 
rich  ;  but  how  can  you  speak  of  it  in  the  girl's  presence  ? 
And  as  for  a  patrician  son-in-law,  there'll  never  be  any- 
thing of  that  sort."  ''Enough,  Master  Martin,  say  no 
more,"  replied  Paumgartner,  laughing.  "  Out  of  the 
fulness  of  the  heart  the  mouth  must  speak.  Don't  you 
believe,  then,  that  when  I  set  eyes  on  Rose  the  sluggish 
blood  begins  to  leap  in  my  old  heart  also  ?  And  if  I 
do  honestly  speak  out  what  she  herself  must  very  well 
know,  surely  there's  no  very  great  mischief  done." 

Rose  brought  the  wine  and  two  beautiful  drinking- 
glasses.  Then  Martin  pushed  the  heavy  table,  which 
was  ornamented  with  some  remarkable  carving,  into  the 
middle  of  the  kitchen.  Scarcely,  however,  had  the  old 
gentlemen  taken  their  places  and  Master  Martin  had 
filled  the  glasses  when  a  trampling  of  horses  was  heard 
in  front  of  the  house.  It  seemed  as  if  a  horseman  had 
pulled  up,  and  as  if  his  voice  was  heard  in  the  entrance- 
passage  below.  Rose  hastened  down  and  soon  came 
back  with  the  intelligence  that  old  Junker  1  Heinrich 

1  This  word  is  generally  used  to  designate  an  untitled  country  noble- 
man, a  member  of  an  old-established  noble  "county"  family.  In 
Prussia  the  name  came  to  be  applied  to  a  political  party.    A  most  in- 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


79 


von  Spangenberg  was  there  and  wished  to  speak  to 
Master  Martin.  "  Marry  !  "  cried  Martin,  "  now  this  is 
what  Lcall  a  fine  lucky  evening,  which  brings  me  my 
best  and  oldest  customer.    New  orders  of  course,  I  see 

I  shall  have  to  '  cask  '  out  again  "   Therewith  he 

hastened  down  as  fast  as  he  was  able  to  meet  his  wel- 
come guest. 

How  Master  Martin  extols  his  trade  above  all  others. 

The  Hochheimer  sparkled  in  the  beautiful  cut  drink- 
ing-glasses,  and  loosened  the  tongues  and  opened  the 
hearts  of  the  three  old  gentlemen.  Old  Spangenberg 
especially,  who,  though  advanced  in  years,  was  yet 
brimming  with  freshness  and  vivacity,  had  many  a  jolly 
prank  out  of  his  merry  youth  to  relate,  so  that  Master 
Martin's  belly  wabbled  famously,  and  again  and  again 
he  had  to  brush  the  tears  out  of  his  eyes,  caused  by  his 
loud  and  hearty  laughing.  Herr  Paumgartner,  too, 
forgot  more  than  was  customary  with  him  the  dignity 
of  the  Councillor,  and  enjoyed  right  well  the  noble 
liquor  and  the  merry  conversation.  But  when  Rose 
again  made  her  appearance  with  the  neat  housekeeper's 
basket  under  her  arm,  out  of  which  she  took  a  table- 
cloth as  dazzling  white  as  fresh-fallen  snow, — when 
she  tripped  backwards  and  forwards  busy  with  house- 
hold matters,  laying  the  cloth,  and  placing  a  plentiful 
supply  of  appetising  dishes  on  the  table, — when,  with 
a  winning  smile  she  invited  the  gentlemen  not  to 
despise  what  had  been  hurriedly  prepared,  but  to  turn 
to  and  eat — during  all  this  time  their  conversation  and 
laughter  ceased.  Neither  Paumgartner  nor  Spangen- 
teresting description  of  the  old  Prussian  Junker  is  given  in  Wilibald 
Alexis'  (W.  H.  Häring's)  charming  novel  Die  Hosen  des  Herrn  v, 
Bredow  (1846-48),  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  style. 


So 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


berg  averted  their  sparkling  eyes  from  the  fascinating 
maiden,  whilst  Master  Martin  too,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  and  folding  his  hands,  watched  her  busy  move- 
ments with  a  gratified  smile.  Rose  was  withdrawing, 
but  old  Spangenberg  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment, 
quick  as  a  youth ;  he  took  the  girl  by  both  shoulders 
and  cried,  again  and  again,  as  the  bright  tears  trickled 
from  his  eyes,  "  Oh  you  good,  you  sweet  little  angel ! 
What  a  dear  darling  girl  you  are  !  "  then  he  kissed  her 
twice — three  times  on  the  forehead,  and  returned  to 
his  seat,  apparently  in  deep  thought. 

Paumgartner  proposed  the  toast  of  Rose's  health. 
"Yes,"  began  Spangenberg,  after  she  had  gone  out  of 
the  room,  "yes,  Master  Martin,  Providence  has  given 
you  a  precious  jewel  in  your  daughter,  whom  you 
cannot  well  over-estimate.  She  will  yet  bring  you  to 
great  honour.  Who  is  there,  let  him  be  of  what  rank 
in  life  he  may,  who  would  not  willingly  be  your  son- 
in-law?"  "There  you  are,"  interposed  Paumgartner; 
"  there  you  see,  Master  Martin,  the  noble  Herr  von 
Spangenberg  is  exactly  of  my  opinion.  I  already  see 
our  dear  Rose  a  patrician's  bride  with  the  rich  jewellery 
of  pearls  1  in  her  beautiful  flaxen  hair."  "  My  dear 
sirs,"  began  Martin,  quite  testily,  "why  do  you,  my 
dear  sirs,  keep  harping  upon  this  matter — a  matter  to 
which  I  have  not  as  yet  directed  my  thoughts  ?  My 
Rose  has  only  just  reached  her  eighteenth  year;  it's 
not  time  for  such  a  young  thing  to  be  looking  out  for 
a  lover.  How  things  may  turn  out  afterwards — well, 
that  I  leave  entirely  to  the  will  of  the  Lord  ;  but  this  I 
do  at  any  rate  know,  that  none  shall  touch  my  daugh- 
ter's hand,  be  he  patrician  or  who  he  may,  except  the 


1  A  string  of  pearls  worn  on  the  wedding-day  was  a  prerogative  of  a 
patrician  bride. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


81 


cooper  who  approves  himself  the  cleverest  and  skil- 
fullest  master  in  his  trade — presuming,  of  course,  that 
my  daughter  will  have  him,  for  never  will  I  constrain 
my  dear  child  to  do  anything  in  the  world,  least  of  all 
to  make  a  marriage  that  she  does  not  like."  Spangen- 
berg  and  Paumgartner  looked  at  each  other,  perfectly 
astonished  at  this  extraordinary  decision  of  the  Mas- 
ters.1 At  length,  after  some  clearing  of  his  throat, 
Spangenberg  began,  "  So,  then,  your  daughter  is  not  to 
wed  out  of  her  own  station  ? "  "God  forbid  she  should," 
rejoined  Martin.  "  But,"  continued  Spangenberg,  "  if 
now  a  skilled  master  of  a  higher  trade,  say  a  goldsmith, 
or  even  a  brave  young  artist,  were  to  sue  for  your  Rose 
and  succeeded  in  winning  her  favour  more  than  all 
other  young  journeymen,  what  then  ? "  "I  should  say," 
replied  Master  Martin,  throwing  his  head  back  into  his 
neck,  "show  me,  my  excellent  young  friend,  the  fine 
two-tun  cask  which  you  have  made  as  your  masterpiece  ; 
and  if  he  could  not  do  so,  I  should  kindly  open  the 
door  for  him  and  very  politely  request  him  to  try  his 
luck  elsewhere."  "Ah!  but,"  went  on  Spangenberg 
again,  "if  the  young  journeyman  should  reply,  'A 


1  In  the  Middle  Ages,  in  Nuremberg,  and  in  most  other  industrial 
towns  also,  the  artisans  and  others  who  formed  guilds  (each  respective 
trade  or  calling  having  generally  its  guild)  were  divided  into  three 
grades,  masters,  journeymen,  and  apprentices.  Admission  from  one 
of  these  grades  into  the  one  next  above  it  was  subject  to  various  more 
or  less  restrictive  conditions.  A  man  could  only  become  a  "master" 
and  regularly  set  up  in  business  for  himself  after  having  gone  through 
the  various  stages  of  training  in  conformity  with  the  rules  or  prescrip- 
tions of  his  guild,  after  having  constructed  his  masterpiece  to  the  satis- 
faction of  a  specially  appointed  commission,  and  after  fulfilling  certain 
requirements  as  to  age,  citizenship,  and  in  some  cases  possession  of  a 
certain  amount  of  property.  It  was  usual  for  journeymen  to  spend 
a  certain  time  in  travelling,  going  from  one  centre  of  their  trade  to 
another. 

Vol.  II.— 6 


82 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


little  structure  of  that  kind  I  cannot  show  you,  but 
come  with  me  to  the  market-place  and  look  at  yon 
beautiful  house  which  is  sending  up  its  slender  gable 
into  the  free  open  air — that's  my  masterpiece.'  "  "  Ah  ! 
my  good  sir,  my  good  sir,"  broke  in  Master  Martin  im- 
patiently, "  why  do  you  give  yourself  all  this  trouble  to 
try  and  make  me  alter  my  conviction  ?  Once  and  for  all, 
my  son-in-law  must  be  of  my  trade  ;  for  my  trade  I  hold 
to  be  the  finest  trade  there  is  in  the  world.  Do  you 
think  we've  nothing  to  do  but  to  fix  the  staves  into  the 
trestles  (hoops),  so  that  the  cask  may  hold  together  ? 
Marry,  it's  a  fine  thing  and  an  admirable  thing  that  our 
handiwork  requires  a  previous  knowledge  of  the  way 
in  which  that  noble  blessing  of  Heaven,  good  wine, 
must  be  kept  and  managed,  that  it  may  acquire 
strength  and  flavour  so  as  to  go  through  all  our  veins 
and  warm  our  blood  like  the  true  spirit  of  life  !  And 
then  as  for  the  construction  of  the  casks — if  we  are 
to  turn  out  a  successful  piece  of  work,  must  we  not 
first  draw  out  our  plans  with  compass  and  rule  ?  We 
must  be  arithmeticians  and  geometricians  of  no  mean 
attainments,  how  else  can  we  adapt  the  proportion 
and  size  of  the  cask  to  the  measure  of  its  contents  ? 
Ay,  sir,  my  heart  laughs  in  my  body  when  we've 
bravely  laboured  at  the  staves  with  jointer  and  adze 
and  have  gotten  a  brave  cask  in  the  vice  ;  and  then 
when  my  journeymen  swing  their  mallets  and  down 
it  comes  on  the  drivers  clipp  !  clapp  !  clipp  !  clapp  ! 
— that's  merry  music  for  you  ;  and  there  stands  your 
well-made  cask.  And  of  a  verity  I  may  look  a  little 
proudly  about  me  when  I  take  my  marking-tool  in 
my  hand  and  mark  the  sign  of  my  handiwork,  that 
is  known  and  honoured  of  all  respectable  wine-masters, 
on  the  bottom  of  the  cask.  You  spoke  of  house-build- 
ing, my  good  sir.    Well,  a  beautiful  house  is  in  truth 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


S3 


a  glorious  piece  of  work,  but  if  I  were  a  house-builder 
and  went  past  a  house  I  had  built,  and  saw  a  dirty  fel- 
low or  good-for-nothing  rascal  who  had  got  possession 
of  it  looking  down  upon  me  from  the  bay-window,  I 
should  feel  thoroughly  ashamed, — I  should  feel,  purely 
out  of  vexation  and  annoyance,  as  if  I  should  like  to 
pull  down  and  destroy  my  own  work.  But  nothing 
like  that  can  happen  with  the  structures  I  build.  Within 
them  there  comes  and  lives  once  for  all  nothing  but 
the  purest  spirit  on  earth — good  wine.  God  prosper 
my  handiwork  ! " 

"That's  a  fine  eulogy,"  said  Spangenberg,  "and 
honestly  and  well  meant.  It  does  you  honour  to  think 
so  highly  of  your  craft  ;  but — do  not  get  impatient  if  I 
keep  harping  upon  the  same  string — now  if  a  patrician 
really  came  and  sued  for  your  daughter?  When  a 
thing  is  brought  right  home  to  a  man  it  often  looks 
very  different  from  what  he  thought  it  would."  "Why, 
i'  faith,"  cried  Master  Martin  somewhat  vehemently, 
"why,  what  else  could  I  do  but  make  a  polite  bow  and 
say,  1  My  dear  sir,  if  you  were  a  brave  cooper,  but  as  it 

is'"   "Stop  a  bit,"  broke  in  Spangenberg  again; 

"but  if  now  some  fine  day  a  handsome  Junker  on  a 
gallant  horse,  with  a  brilliant  retinue  dressed  in  magnif- 
icent silks  and  satins,  were  to  pull  up  before  your 
door  and  ask  you  for  Rose  to  w7ife  ?  "  "  Marry,  by  my 
faith,"  cried  Master  Martin  still  more  vehemently  than 
before,  "why,  marry,  I  should  run  down  as  fast  as  I 
could  and  lock  and  bolt  the  door,  and  I  should  shout 
*  Ride  on  farther !  Ride  on  farther !  my  worshipful 
Herr  Junker  ;  roses  like  mine  don't  blossom  for  you. 
My  wine-cellar  and  my  money-bags  would,  I  dare  say, 
suit  you  passing  well — and  you  would  take  the  girl  in 
with  the  bargain  ;  but  ride  on  !  ride  on  farther.'  "  Old 
Spangenberg  rose  to  his  feet,  his  face  hot  and  red  all 


S4 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


over  ;  then,  leaning  both  hands  on  the  table,  he  stood 
looking  on  the  floor  before  him.  "Well,"  he  began 
after  a  pause,  "and  now  the  last  question,  Master 
Martin.  If  the  Junker  before  your  door  were  my  own 
son,  if  I  myself  stopped  at  your  door,  would  you  shut 
it  then,  should  you  believe  then  that  we  were  only 
come  for  your  wine-cellar  and  your  money-bags  ? " 
"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  my  good  and  honoured  sir," 
replied  Master  Martin.  "  I  would  gladly  throw  open 
my  door,  and  everything  in  my  house  should  be  at 
your  and  your  son's  service  ;  but  as  for  my  Rose,  I 
should  say  to  you,  1  If  it  had  only  pleased  Providence 
to  make  your  gallant  son  a  brave  cooper,  there  would 
be  no  more  welcome  son-in-law  on  earth  than  he  ;  but 

now'   But,  my  dear  good  sir,  why  do  you  tease 

and  worry  me  with  such  curious  questions  ?  See  you, 
our  merry  talk  has  come  abruptly  to  an  end,  and  look  ! 
our  glasses  are  all  standing  full.  Let's  put  all  sons-in- 
law  and  Rose's  marriage  aside  ;  here,  I  pledge  you  to 
the  health  of  your  son,  who  is,  I  hear,  a  handsome 
young  knight."  Master  Martin  seized  his  glass ;  Paum- 
gartner  followed  his  example,  saying,  "A  truce  to  all 
captious  conversation,  and  here's  a  health  to  your 
gallant  son."  Spangenberg  touched  glasses  with  them, 
and  said  with  a  forced  smile,  "  Of  course  you  know  I 
was  only  speaking  in  jest ;  for  nothing  but  wild  head- 
strong passion  could  ever  lead  my  son,  who  may  choose 
him  a  wife  from  amongst  the  noblest  families  in  the 
land,  so  far  to  disregard  his  rank  and  birth  as  to  sue  for 
your  daughter.  But  methinks  you  might  have  answered 
me  in  a  somewhat  more  friendly  way."  "Well,  but, 
my  good  sir,"  replied  Master  Martin,  "even  in  jest  I 
could  only  speak  as  I  should  act  if  the  wonderful  things 
you  are  pleased  to  imagine  were  really  to  happen.  But 
you  must  let  me  have  my  pride ;  for  you  cannot  but 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


85 


allow  that  I  am  the  skilfullest  cooper  far  and  near,  that 
I  understand  the  management  of  wine,  that  I  observe 
strictly  and  truly  the  admirable  wine-regulations  of  our 
departed  Emperor  Maximilian1  (may  he  rest  in  peace  !), 
that  as  beseems  a  pious  man  I  abhor  all  godlessness, 
that  I  never  burn  more  than  one  small  half-ounce  of 
pure  sulphur2  in  one  of  my  two-tun  casks,  which  is 
necessary  to  preserve  it  —  the  which,  my  good  and 
honoured  sirs,  you  will  have  abundantly  remarked 
from  the  flavour  of  my  wine."  Spangenberg  resumed 
his  seat,  and  tried  to  put  on  a  cheerful  countenance, 
whilst  Paumgartner  introduced  other  topics  of  conver- 
sation. But,  as  it  so  often  happens,  when  once  the 
strings  of  an  instrument  have  got  out  of  tune,  they  are 
always  getting  more  or  less  warped,  so  that  the  player 
in  vain  tries  to  entice  from  them  again  the  full-toned 
chords  which  they  gave  at  first,  thus  it  was  with  the 
three  old  gentlemen  ;  no  remark,  no  word,  found  a 
sympathetic  response.  Spangenberg  called  for  his 
grooms,  and  left  Master  Martin's  house  quite  in  an 
ill-humour  after  he  had  entered  it  in  gay  good  spirits. 

The  old  Grandmother 's  Prophecy. 

Master  Martin  was  rather  ill  at  ease  because  his 
brave  old  customer  had  gone  away  out  of  humour  in 
this  way,  and  he  said  to  Paumgartner,  who  had  just 
emptied  his  last  glass  and  rose  to  go  too,  "  For  the  life 
of  me,  I  can't  understand  what  the  old  gentleman  meant 
by  his  talk,  and  why  he  should  have  got  testy  about  it 

1  From  another  passage  {Der  Feind,  chap,  i.)  it  appears  that  the 
reference  is  to  a  series  of  regulations  dealing  with  the  wine  industry, 
of  date  August  24,  1498,  in  the  reign  of  Maximilian  I. 

2  Sulphur  is  burnt  inside  the  cask  (care  being  taken  that  it  does  not 
touch  it)  in  order  to  keep  it  sweet  and  pure,  as  well  as  to  impart  both 
flavour  and  colour  to  the  wine. 


S6 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


at  last."  "  My  good  friend  Master  Martin,"  began 
Paumgartner,  "  you  are  a  good  and  honest  man  ;  and  a 
man  has  verily  a  right  to  set  store  by  the  handiwork 
he  loves  and  which  brings  him  wealth  and  honour  ;  but 
he  ought  not  to  show  it  in  boastful  pride,  that's  against 
all  right  Christian  feeling.  And  in  our  guild-meeting 
to-day  you  did  not  act  altogether  right  in  putting  your- 
self before  all  the  other  masters.  It  may  true  that  you 
understand  more  about  your  craft  than  all  the  rest ; 
but  that  you  go  and  cast  it  in  their  teeth  can  only  pro- 
voke ill-humour  and  black  looks.  And  then  you  must 
go  and  do  it  again  this  evening  !  You  could  not  surely 
be  so  infatuated  as  to  look  for  anything  else  in  Spang- 
enberg's  talk  beyond  a  jesting  attempt  to  see  to  what 
lengths  you  would  go  in  your  obstinate  pride.  No 
wonder  the  worthy  gentleman  felt  greatly  annoyed 
when  you  told  him  you  should  only  see  common  cov- 
etousness  in  any  Junker's  wooing  of  your  daughter. 
But  all  would  have  been  well  if,  when  Spangenberg 
began  to  speak  of  his  son,  you  had  interposed — if  you 
had  said,  *  Marry,  my  good  and  honoured  sir,  if  you 
yourself  came  along  with  your  son  to  sue  for  my  daugh- 
ter— why,  i'  faith,  that  would  be  far  too  high  an  honour 
for  me,  and  I  should  then  have  wavered  in  my  firmest 
principles.'  Now,  if  you  had  spoken  to  him  like  that, 
what  else  could  old  Spangenberg  have  done  but  forget 
his  former  resentment,  and  smile  cheerfully  and  in 
good  humour  as  he  had  done  before  ? "  "  Ay,  scold  me," 
said  Master  Martin,  "  scold  me  right  well,  I  have  well 
deserved  it  ;  but  when  the  old  gentleman  would  keep 
talking  such  stupid  nonsense  I  felt  as  if  I  were  choking, 
I  could  not  make  any  other  answer."  "And  then," 
went  on  Paumgartner,  "  what  a  ridiculous  resolve  to 
give  your  daughter  to  nobody  but  a  cooper  !  You  will 
commit,  you  say,  your  daughter's  destiny  to  Providence, 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


87 


and  yet  with  human  shortsightedness  you  anticipate 
the  decree  of  the  Almighty  in  that  you  obstinately  de- 
termine beforehand  that  your  son-in-law  is  to  come 
from  within  a  certain  narrow  circle.  That  will  prove 
the  ruin  of  you  and  your  Rose,  if  you  are  not  careful. 
Have  done,  Master  Martin,  have  done  with  such  un- 
christian childish  folly  ;  leave  the  Almighty,  who  will 
put  a  right  choice  in  your  daughter's  honest  heart 
when  the  right  time  comes — leave  Him  to  manage  it 
all  in  his  own  way."  u  O  my  worthy  friend,"  said  Mas- 
ter Martin,  quite  crest-fallen,  "  I  now  see  how  wrong  I 
was  not  to  tell  you  everything  at  first.  You  think  it  is 
nothing  but  overrating  my  handiwork  that  has  brought 
me  to  take  this  unchangeable  resolve  of  wedding  Rose 
to  none  but  a  master-cooper  ;  but  that  is  not  so  ;  there 
is  another  reason,  a  more  wTonderful  and  mysterious 
reason.  I  can't  let  you  go  until  you  have  learned  all  ; 
you  shall  not  bear  ill-will  against  me  over-night.  Sit 
down,  I  earnestly  beg  you,  stay  a  few  minutes  longer. 
See  here  ;  there's  still  a  bottle  of  that  old  wine  left 
which  the  ill-tempered  Junker  has  despised  ;  come,  let's 
enjoy  it  together."  Paumgartner  was  astonished  at 
Master  Martin's  earnest,  confidential  tone,  which  was 
in  general  perfectly  foreign  to  his  nature  ;  it  seemed  as 
if  there  was  something  weighing  heavy  upon  the  man's 
heart  that  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of. 

And  when  Paumgartner  had  taken  his  seat  and 
drunk  a  glass  of  wine,  Master  Martin  began  as  follows. 
"You  know,  my  good  and  honoured  friend,  that  soon 
after  Rose  was  born  I  lost  my  beloved  wife ;  Rose's 
birth  was  her  death.  At  that  time  my  old  grandmother 
was  still  living,  if  you  can  call  it  living  when  one  is 
blind,  deaf  as  a  post,  scarce  able  to  speak,  lame  in 
every  limb,  and  lying  in  bed  day  after  day  and  night 
after  night.    Rose  had  been  christened  ;  and  the  nurse 


88 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


sat  with  the  child  in  the  room  where  my  old  grand- 
mother lay.  I  was  so  cut  up  with  grief,  and  when  I 
looked  upon  my  child,  so  sad  and  yet  so  glad — in  fact 
I  was  so  greatly  shaken  that  I  felt  utterly  unfitted  for 
any  kind  of  work,  and  stood  quite  still  and  wrapped  up 
in  my  own  thoughts  beside  my  old  grandmother's  bed  ; 
and  I  counted  her  happy,  since  now  all  her  earthly 
pain  was  over.  And  as  I  gazed  upon  her  face  a  strange 
smile  began  to  steal  across  it,  her  withered  features 
seemed  to  be  smoothed  out,  her  pale  cheeks  became 
flushed  with  colour.  She  raised  herself  up  in  bed  ;  she 
stretched  out  her  paralysed  arms,  as  if  suddenly  ani- 
mated by  some  supernatural  power, — for  she  had  never 
been  able  to  do  so  at  other  times.  She  called  distinctly 
in  a  low  pleasant  voice,  i  Rose,  my  darling  Rose  ! ' 
The  nurse  got  up  and  brought  her  the  child,  which  she 
rocked  up  and  down  in  her  arms.  But  then,  my  good 
sir,  picture  my  utter  astonishment,  nay,  my  alarm,  when 
the  old  lady  struck  up  in  a  clear  strong  voice  a  song  in 
the  Hohe  fröhliche  Lobweis1  of  Herr  Hans  Berchler, 
mine  host  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  Strasburg,  which  ran 
like  this — 

Maiden  tender,  with  cheeks  so  red, 

Rose,  listen  to  the  words  I  say ; 

Wouldst  guard  thyself  from  fear  and  ill  ? 

Then  put  thy  trust  in  God  alway  ; 

Let  not  thy  tongue  at  aught  make  mock, 

Nor  foolish  longings  feed  at  heart. 

A  vessel  fair  to  see  he'll  bring, 

In  which  the  spicy  liquid  foams, 

And  bright,  bright  angels  gaily  sing. 

And  then  in  reverent  mood 

Hearken  to  the  truest  love, 

Oh  !  hearken  to  the  sweet  love- words. 


1  See  note  2,  p.  15.  The  German  Meistersinger  always  sang  with- 
out any  accompaniment  of  musical  instruments. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


89 


The  vessel  fair  with  golden  grace — 

Lo  !  him  who  brings  it  in  the  house 

Thou  wilt  reward  with  sweet  embrace  ; 

And  an  thy  lover  be  but  true, 

Thou  need'st  nor  wait  thy  father's  kiss. 

The  vessel  fair  will  always  bring 

All  wealth  and  joy  and  peace  and  bliss  ; 

So,  virgin  fair,  with  the  bright,  bright  eyesK 

Let  aye  thy  little  ear  be  ope 

To  all  true  words.    And  henceforth  live, 

And  with  God's  richest  blessing  thrive. 

And  after  she  had  sung  this  song  through,  she  laid 
the  child  gently  and  carefully  down  upon  the  coverlet ; 
and,  placing  her  trembling  withered  hand  upon  her 
forehead,  she  muttered  something  to  herself,  to  us, 
however,  unintelligible  ;  but  the  rapt  countenance  of 
the  old  lady  showed  in* every  feature  that  she  was  pray- 
ing. Then  her  head  sank  back  upon  the  pillows,  and 
just  as  the  nurse  took  up  the  child  my  old  grandmother 
took  a  deep  breath  ;  she  was  dead."  "That  is  a  won- 
derful story,"  said  Paumgartner  when  Master  Martin 
ceased  speaking  ;  "  but  I  don't  exactly  see  what  is  the 
connection  between  your  old  grandmother's  prophetic 
song  and  your  obstinate  resolve  to  give  Rose  to  none 
but  a  master-cooper."  "  What  !  "  replied  Master  Mar- 
tin, "  why,  what  can  be  plainer  than  that  the  old  lady, 
especially  inspired  by  the  Lord  at  the  last  moments  of 
her  life,  announced  in  a  prophetic  voice  what  must 
happen  if  Rose  is  to  be  happy  ?  The  lover  who  is  to 
bring  wealth  and  joy  and  peace  and  bliss  into  the  house 
with  his  vessel  fair,  who  is  that  but  a  lusty  cooper  who 
has  made  his  vessel  fair,  his  masterpiece  with  me  ?  In 
what  other  vessel  does  the  spicy  liquid  foam,  if  not  in 
the  wine-cask  ?  And  wThen  the  wine  works,  it  bubbles 
and  even  murmurs  and  splashes  ;  that's  the  lovely 
angels  chasing  each  other  backwards  and  forwards  in 


9o 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


the  wine  and  singing  their  gay  songs.  Ay,  ay,  I  teil 
you,  my  old  grandmother  meant  none  other  lover  than 
a  master-cooper ;  and  it  shall  be  so,  it  shall  be  so." 
"  But,  my  good  Master  Martin,"  said  Paumgartner, 
"you  are  interpreting  the  words  of  your  old  grand- 
mother just  in  your  own  way.  Your  interpretation  is 
far  from  satisfactory  to  my  mind  ;  and  I  repeat  that  you 
ought  to  leave  all  simply  to  the  ordering  of  Providence 
and  your  daughter's  heart,  in  which  I  dare  be  bound 
the  right  choice  lies  hidden  away  somewhere."  "And 
I  repeat,"  interrupted  Martin  impatiently,  "  that  my 
son-in-law  shall  be, — I  am  resolved, — shall  be  none 
other  than  a  skilful  cooper."  Paumgartner  almost  got 
angry  at  Master  Martin's  stubbornness  ;  he  controlled 
himself,  however,  and,  rising  from  his  seat,  said,  "  It's 
getting  late,  Master  Martin,  let  us  now  have  done  with 
our  drinking  and  talking,  for  neither  methinks  will  do 
us  any  more  good." 

When  they  came  out  into  the  entrance-hall,  there 
stood  a  young  woman  with  five  little  boys,  the  eldest 
scarce  eight  years  old  apparently,  and  the  youngest 
scarce  six  months.  She  was  weeping  and  sobbing 
bitterly.  Rose  hastened  to  meet  the  two  old  gentlemen 
and  said,  "  Oh  father,  father  !  Valentine  is  dead  ;  there 
is  his  wife  and  the  children."  "What!  Valentine 
dead?"  cried  Master  Martin,  greatly  startled.  "Oh! 
that  accident !  that  accident !  Just  fancy,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  Paumgartner,  "just  fancy,  my  good  sir, 
Valentine  was  the  cleverest  journeyman  I  had  on  the 
premises  ;  and  he  was  industrious,  and  a  good  honest 
man  as  well.  Some  time  ago  he  wounded  himself 
dangerously  with  the  adze  in  building  a  large  cask  ; 
the  wound  got  worse  and  worse  ;  he  was  seized  with  a 
violent  fever,  and  now  he  has  had  to  die  of  it  in  the 
prime  of  life."    Thereupon  Master  Martin  approached 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


9i 


the  poor  disconsolate  woman,  who,  bathed  in  tears, 
was  lamenting  that  she  had  nothing  but  misery  and 
starvation  staring  her  in  the  face.  "What!"  said 
Master  Martin,  "what  do  you  think  of  me  then? 
Your  husband  got  his  dangerous  wound  whilst  working 
for  me,  and  do  you  think  I  am  going  to  let  you  perish 
of  want  ?  No,  you  all  belong  to  my  house  from  now 
onwards.  To-morrow,  or  whenever  you  like,  we'll  bury 
your  poor  husband,  and  then  do  you  and  your  boys  go 
to  my  farm  outside  the  Ladies  Gate,1  where  my  fine 
open  workshop  is,  and  where  I  work  every  day  with 
my  journeymen.  You  can  install  yourself  as  house- 
keeper there  to  look  after  things  for  me,  and  your  fine 
boys  I  will  educate  as  if  they  were  my  own  sons.  And, 
I  tell  you  what,  I'll  take  your  old  father  as  well  into 
my  house.  He  was  a  sturdy  journeyman  cooper  once 
upon  a  time  whilst  he  still  had  muscle  in  his  arms. 
And  now — if  he  can  no  longer  wield  the  mallet,  or  the 
beetle  or  the  beak  iron,  or  work  at  the  bench,  he  yet 
can  do  something  with  croze-adze,  or  can  hollow  out 
staves  for  me  with  the  draw-knife.  At  any  rate  he 
shall  come  along  with  you  and  be  taken  into  my 
house."  If  Master  Martin  had  not  caught  hold  of  the 
woman,  she  would  have  fallen  on  the  floor  at  his  feet 
in  a  dead  swoon,  she  was  so  affected  by  grief  and  emo- 
tion. The  eldest  of  the  boys  clung  to  his  doublet, 
whilst  the  two  youngest,  whom  Rose  had  taken  in  her 
arms,  stretched  out  their  tiny  hands  towards  him,  as  if 
they  had  understood  it  all.  Old  Paumgartner  said, 
smiling  and  with  bright  tears  standing  in  his  eyes, 
"  Master  Martin,  one  can't  bear  you  any  ill-will ; "  and 
he  betook  himself  to  his  own  home. 


1  This  is  one  of  the  principal  round  towers,  erected  1558-1568,  in 
the  town  walls  ;  it  is  situated  on  the  south-east. 


9^ 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


How  the  two  young  journeymen  Frederick  and  Reinhold 
became  acquainted  with  each  other. 

Upon  a  beautiful,  grassy,  gently-sloping  hill,  shaded 
by  lofty  trees,  lay  a  fine  well-made  young  journeyman, 
whose  name  was  Frederick.  The  sun  had  already  set, 
and  rosy  tongues  of  light  were  stretching  upwards 
from  the  furthest  verge  of  the  horizon.  In  the  dis- 
tance the  famed  imperial  town  of  Nuremberg  could 
be  plainly  seen,  spreading  across  the  valley  and  boldly 
lifting  up  her  proud  towers  against  the  red  glow  of  the 
evening,  its  golden  rays  gilding  their  pinnacles.  The 
young  journeyman  was  leaning  his  arm  on  his  bundle, 
which  lay  beside  him,  and  contained  his  necessaries 
whilst  on  the  travel,  and  was  gazing  with  looks  full  of 
longing  down  into  the  valley.  Then  he  plucked  some 
of  the  flowers  which  grew  among  the  grass  within 
reach  of  him  and  tossed  them  into  the  air  towards  the 
glorious  sunset  ;  afterwards  he  sat  gazing  sadly  before 
him,  and  the  burning  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes.  At 
length  he  raised  his  head,  and  spreading  out  his  arms 
as  if  about  to  embrace  some  one  dear  to  him,  he  sang 
in  a  clear  and  very  pleasant  voice  the  following  song : — 

My  eyes  now  rest  once  more 
On  thee,  O  home,  sweet  home  ! 
My  true  and  honest  heart 
Has  ne'er  forgotten  thee. 

0  rosy  glow  of  evening,  come, 

1  fain  would  naught  but  roses  see. 
Ye  sweetest  buds  and  flowers  of  love, 
Bend  down  and  touch  my  heart 
With  winsome  sweet  caresses. 

O  swelling  bosom,  wilt  thou  burst  ? 
Yet  hold  in  pain  and  sweet  joy  fast. 
O  golden  evening  red  ! 
O  beauteous  ray,  be  my  sweet  messenger, 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


93 


And  bear  to  her  my  sighs  and  tears — 
My  tears  and  sighs  on  faithfully  to  her. 
And  were  I  now  to  die, 
And  roses  then  did  ask  thee — say, 
"His  heart  with  love — it  pined  away." 

Having  sung  this  song,  Frederick  took  a  little  piece 
of  wax  out  of  his  bundle,  warmed  it  in  his  bosom,  and 
began  in  a  neat  and  artistic  manner  to  model  a  beauti- 
ful rose  with  scores  of  delicate  petals.  Whilst  busy 
with  this  work  he  hummed  to  himself  some  of  the 
lines  of  the  song  he  had  just  sung,  and  so  deeply  ab- 
sorbed was  he  in  his  occupation  that  he  did  not  ob- 
serve the  handsome  youth  who  had  been  standing 
behind  him  for  some  time  and  attentively  watching 
his  work. 

"Marry,  my  friend,"  began  now  the  youth,  "by  my 
troth,  that  is  a  dainty  piece  of  work  you  are  making 
there."  Frederick  looked  round  in  alarm  ;  but  when 
he  looked  into  the  dark  friendly  eyes  of  the  young 
stranger,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  known  him  for  a  long 
time.  Smiling,  he  replied,  "  Oh  !  my  dear  sir,  how 
can  you  notice  such  trifling  ?  it  only  serves  me  for 
pastime  on  my  journey."  "Well  then,"  went  on  the 
stranger  youth,  "  if  you  call  that  delicately  formed 
flower,  which  is  so  faithful  a  reproduction  of  Nature, 
trifling,  you  must  be  a  skilful  practised  modeller.  You 
have  afforded  me  a  pleasant  surprise  in  two  ways. 
First,  I  was  quite  touched  to  the  heart  by  the  song 
you  sang  so  admirably  to  Martin  Häscher's  Zarte 
Buchstabenweis ;  and  now  I  cannot  but  admire  your 
artistic  skill  in  modelling.  How  much  farther  do  you 
intend  to  travel  to-day  ?  "  Frederick  replied,  "  Yonder 
lies  the  goal  of  my  journey  before  our  eyes.  I  am 
going  home,  to  the  famed  imperial  town  of  Nuremberg. 
But  as  the  sun  has  now  been  set  some  time,  I  shall 


94 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


pass  the  night  in  the  village  below  there,  and  then  by- 
being  up  and  away  in  the  early  morning  I  can  be  in 
Nuremberg  at  noon."  "  Marry,"  cried  the  youth, 
delighted,  "  how  finely  things  will  fit  ;  we  are  both 
going  the  same  way,  for  I  want  to  go  to  Nuremberg. 
I  will  spend  the  night  with  you  here  in  the  village, 
and  then  we'll  proceed  on  our  way  again  to-morrow. 
And  now  let  us  talk  a  little."  The  youth,  Reinhold 
by  name,  threw  himself  down  beside  Frederick  on  the 
grass,  and  continued,  "  If  I  mistake  not,  you  are  a  skil- 
ful artist-caster,  are  you  not  ?  I  infer  it  from  your  style 
of  modelling  ;  or  perhaps  you  are  a  worker  in  gold  and 
silver  ? "  Frederick  cast  down  his  eyes  sadly,  and  said 
dejectedly,  "  Marry,  my  dear  sir,  you  are  taking  me  for 
something  far  better  and  higher  than  I  really  am.  Well, 
I  will  speak  candidly  ;  I  have  learned  the  trade  of  a 
cooper,  and  am  now  going  to  work  for  a  well-known 
master  in  Nuremberg.  You  will  no  doubt  look  down 
upon  me  with  contempt  since,  instead  of  being  able  to 
mould  and  cast  splendid  statues,  and  such  like,  all  I  can 
do  is  to  hoop  casks  and  tubs."  Reinhold  burst  out 
laughing,  and  cried,  "  Now  that  I  call  droll.  I  shall 
look  down  upon  you — eh  ?  because  you  are  a  cooper  ; 
why  man,  that's  what  I  am  ;  I'm  nothing  but  a  cooper." 
Frederick  opened  his  eyes  wide  in  astonishment  ;  he 
did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it,  for  Reinhold's  dress 
was  in  keeping  with  anything  sooner  than  a  journey- 
man cooper's  on  travel.  His  doublet  of  fine  black  cloth, 
trimmed  with  slashed  velvet,  his  dainty  ruff,  his  short 
broadsword,  and  baretta  with  a  long  drooping  feather, 
seemed  rather  to  point  to  a  prosperous  merchant  ;  and 
yet  again  there  was  a  strange  something  about  the  face 
and  form  of  the  youth  which  completely  negatived  the 
idea  of  a  merchant.  Reinhold,  noticing  Frederick's 
doubting  glances,  undid  his  travelling-bundle  and  pro- 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


95 


duced  bis  cooper's  apron  and  knife-belt,  saying,  "  Look 
here,  my  friend,  look  here.  Have  you  any  doubts  now 
as  to  my  being  a  comrade  ?  I  perceive  you  are  astonished 
at  my  clothing,  but  I  have  just  come  from  Strasburg, 
where  the  coopers  go  about  the  streets  as  fine  as  noble- 
men. Certainly  I  did  once  set  my  heart  upon  something 
else  like  you,  but  now  to  be  a  cooper  is  the  topmost 
height  of  my  ambition,  and  I  have  staked  many  a  grand 
hope  upon  it.  Is  it  not  the  same  with  you,  comrade  ? 
But  I  could  almost  believe  that  a  dark  cloud-shadow 
had  been  hung  unawares  about  the  brightness  of  your 
youth,  so  that  you  are  no  longer  able  to  look  freely 
and  gladly  about  you.  The  song  which  you  were  just 
singing  was  full  of  pain  and  of  the  yearning  of  love  ; 
but  there  were  strains  in  it  that  seemed  as  if  they  pro- 
ceeded from  my  own  heart,  and  I  somehow  fancy  I 
know  all  that  is  locked  up  within  your  breast.  You 
may  therefore  all  the  more  put  confidence  in  me,  for 
shall  we  not  then  be  good  comrades  in  Nuremberg  ? " 
Reinhold  threw  his  arm  around  Frederick  and  looked 
kindly  into  his  eyes.  Whereupon  Frederick  said, 
"The  more  I  look  at  you,  honest  friend,  the  stronger 
I  feel  drawn  towards  you  ;  I  clearly  discern  within 
my  breast  the  wonderful  voice  which  faithfully  echoes 
the  cry  that  you  are  a  sympathetic  spirit.  I  must 
tell  you  all — not  that  a  poor  fellow  like  me  has  any 
important  secrets  to  confide  to  you,  but  simply  because 
there  is  room  in  the  heart  of  the  true  friend  for  his 
friend's  pain,  and  during  the  first  moments  of  our  new 
acquaintance  even  I  acknowledge  you  to  be  my  truest 
friend. 

"I  am  noAV  a  cooper,  and  may  boast  that  I  under- 
stand my  work  ;  but  all  my  thoughts  have  been 
directed  to  another  and  a  nobler  art  since  my  very 
childhood.     I  wished  to  become  a  great  master  in 


96 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


casting  statues  and  in  silver-work,  like  Peter  Fischer 1 
or  the  Italian  Benvenuto  Cellini  ;2  and  so  I  worked 
with  intense  ardour  along  with  Herr  Johannes  Holz- 
schuer,3  the  well-known  worker  in  silver  in  my  native 
town  yonder.  For  although  he  did  not  exactly  cast 
statues  himself,  he  was  yet  able  to  give  me  a  good 
introduction  to  the  art.  And  Herr  Tobias  Martin, 
the  master-cooper,  often  came  to  Herr  Holzschuer's 
with  his  daughter,  pretty  Rose.  Without  being  con- 
sciously aware  of  it,  I  fell  in  love  with  her.  I  then 
left  home  and  went  to  Augsburg  in  order  to  learn 
properly  the  art  of  casting,  but  this  first  caused  my 
smouldering  passion  to  burst  out  into  flames.  I  saw 
and  heard  nothing  but  Rose  ;  every  exertion  and  all 
labour  that  did  not  tend  to  the  winning  of  her  grew 
hateful  to  me.  And  so  I  adopted  the  only  course  that 
would  bring  me  to  this  goal.  For  Master  Martin  will 
only  give  his  daughter  to  the  cooper  who  shall  make 
the  very  best  masterpiece  in  his  house,  and  who  of 
course  finds  favour  in  his  daughter's  eyes  as  well.  I 
deserted  my  own  art  to  learn  cooperage.  I  am  now 
going   to  Nuremberg  to  work   for   Master  Martin. 


1  Peter  Vischer  {c.  1455-1529),  a  native  of  Nuremberg,  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  of  German  sculptors,  was  chiefly  engaged  in  making 
monuments  for  deceased  princes  in  various  parts  of  Germany  and 
central  Europe.  The  shrine  in  St.  Sebald's,  mentioned  above,  is 
generally  considered  his  masterpiece. 

2  Benvenuto  Cellini  (1500-1569)  of  Florence,  goldsmith  and  worker 
in  metals.  Mr.  W.  M.  Rossetti  rightly  says  that  his  biography,  written 
by  himself,  forms  one  of  the  most  "fascinating"  of  books.  It  has 
been  translated  into  English  by  Thomas  Roscoe,  and  by  Goethe  into 
German. 

3  Holzschuher  was  the  name  of  an  old  and  important  family  in  Nurem- 
berg. Fifty-four  years  before  the  date  of  the  present  story,  that  is  in 
1526,  a  member  of  the  family  was  burgomaster  of  his  native  town,  and 
was  painted  by  Dürer. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


97 


But  now  that  my  home  lies  before  me  and  Rose's 
image  rises  up  before  my  eyes,  I  feel  overcome  with 
anxiety  and  nervousness,  and  my  heart  sinks  within 
me.  Now  I  see  clearly  how  foolishly  I  have  acted  ; 
for  I  don't  even  know  whether  Rose  loves  me  or 
whether  she  ever  will  love  me."  Reinhold  had  list- 
ened to  Frederick's  story  with  increasing  attention. 
He  now  rested  his  head  on  his  arm,  and,  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  asked  in  a  hollow  moody  voice, 
"And  has  Rose  never  given  you  any  signs  of  her  love  ?  " 
"  Nay,"  replied  Frederick,  "  nay,  for  when  I  left 
Nuremberg  she  was  more  a  child  than  a  maiden.  No 
doubt  she  liked  me  ;  she  smiled  upon  me  most  sweetly 
when  I  never  wearied  plucking  flowers  for  her  in  Herr 
Holzschuer's  garden  and  weaving  them  into  wreaths, 

but  "    "  Oh!  then  all  hope  is  not  yet  lost,"  cried 

Reinhold  suddenly,  and  so  vehemently  and  in  such 
a  disagreeably  shrill  voice  that  Frederick  was  almost 
terrified.  At  the  same  time  he  leapt  to  his  feet,  his 
sword  rattling  against  his  side,  and  as  he  stood  upright 
at  his  full  stature  the  deep  shadows  of  the  night  fell 
upon  his  pale  face  and  distorted  his  gentle  features 
in  a  most  unpleasant  way,  so  that  Frederick  cried, 
perfectly  alarmed,  "What's  happened  to  you  all  at 
once  ? "  and  stepping  back,  his  foot  knocked  against 
Reinhold's  bundle.  There  proceeded  from  it  the 
jarring  of  some  stringed  instrument,  and  Reinhold 
cried  angrily,  "  You  ill-mannered  fellow,  don't  break 
my  lute  all  to  pieces."  The  instrument  was  fastened 
to  the  bundle  ;  Reinhold  unbuckled  it  and  ran  his 
fingers  wildly  over  the  strings  as  if  he  would  break 
them  all.  But  his  playing  soon  grew  soft  and  melo- 
dious. "  Come,  brother,"  said  he  in  the  same  gentle 
tone  as  before,  "  let  us  now  go  down  into  the  village. 
I've  got  a  good  means  here  in  my  hands  to  banish 
Vol.  II.— 7 


9S 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


the  evil  spirits  who  may  cross  our  path,  and  who  might 
in  particular  have  any  dealings  with  me."  "  Why, 
brother,"  replied  Frederick,  "  what  evil  spirits  will  be 
likely  to  have  anything  to  do  with  us  on  the  way  ?  But 
your  playing  is  very,  very  nice  ;  please  go  on  with  it." 

The  golden  stars  were  beginning  to  dot  the  dark 
azure  sky.  The  night- breezes  in  low  murmurous 
whispers  swept  lightly  over  the  fragrant  meadows. 
The  brooks  babbled  louder,  and  the  trees  rustled  in 
the  distant  woods  round  about.  Then  Frederick  and 
Reinhold  went  down  the  slope  playing  and  singing, 
and  the  sweet  notes  of  their  songs,  so  full  of  noble 
aspirations,  swelled  up  clear  and  sharp  in  the  air,  as 
if  they  had  been  plumed  arrows  of  light.  Arrived 
at  their  quarters  for  the  night,  Reinhold  quickly  threw 
aside  lute  and  bundle  and  strained  Frederick  to  his 
heart  ;  and  Frederick  felt  on  his  cheeks  the  scalding 
tears  which  Reinhold  shed. 

How  the  two  young  journey  ??ien,  Reinhold  and  Frederick, 
were  taken  into  Master  Martins  house. 

Next  morning  when  Frederick  awoke  he  missed  his 
new-won  friend,  who  had  the  night  before  thrown  him- 
self down  upon  the  straw  pallet  at  his  side  ;  and  as  his 
lute  and  his  bundle  were  likewise  missing,  Frederick 
quite  concluded  that  Reinhold,  from  reasons  which 
were  unknown  to  him,  had  left  him  and  gone  another 
road.  But  directly  he  stepped  out  of  the  house  Rein- 
hold  came  to  meet  him,  his  bundle  on  his  back  and  his 
lute  under  his  arm,  and  dressed  altogether  differently 
from  what  he  had  been  the  day  before.  He  had  taken 
the  feather  out  of  his  baretta,  and  laid  aside  his  sword, 
and  had  put  on  a  plain  burgher's  doublet  of  an  unpre- 
tentious colour,  instead  of  the  fine  one  with  the  velvet 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


99 


trimmings.  "Now,  brother,"  he  cried,  laughing  mer- 
rily to  his  astonished  friend,  "  you  will  acknowledge 
me  for  your  true  comrade  and  faithful  work-mate  now, 
eh  ?  But  let  me  tell  you  that  for  a  youth  in  love  you 
have  slept  most  soundly.  Look  how  high  the  sun  is. 
Come,  let  us  be  going  on  our  way."  Frederick  was 
silent  and  busied  with  his  own  thoughts  ;  he  scarcely 
answered  Reinhold's  questions  and  scarcely  heeded  his 
jests.  Reinhold,  however,  was  full  of  exuberant  spirits  ; 
he  ran  from  side  to  side,  shouted,  and  waved  his  baretta 
in  the  air.  But  he  too  became  more  and  more  silent 
the  nearer  they  approached  the  town.  "  I  can't  go  any 
farther,  I  am  so  full  of  nervousness  and  anxiety  and 
sweet  sadness  ;  let  us  rest  a  little  while  beneath  these 
trees."  Thus  spake  Frederick  just  before  they  reached 
the  gate  ;  and  he  threw  himself  down  quite  exhausted 
in  the  grass.  Reinhold  sat  down  beside  him,  and  after 
a  while  began,  "  I  daresay  you  thought  me  extremely 
strange  yesterday  evening,  good  brother  mine.  But  as 
you  told  me  about  your  love,  and  were  so  very  dejected, 
then  all  kinds  of  foolish  nonsense  flooded  my  mind  and 
made  me  quite  confused,  and  would  have  made  me  mad 
in  the  end  if  your  good  singing  and  my  lute  had  not 
driven  away  the  evil  spirits.  But  this  morning  when 
the  first  ray  of  sunlight  awoke  me,  all  my  gaiety  of 
heart  returned,  for  all  nasty  feelings  had  already  left 
me  last  evening.  I  ran  out,  and  whilst  wandering 
among  the  undergrowth  a  crowd  of  fine  things  came 
into  my  mind  :  how  I  had  found  you,  and  how  all  my 
heart  felt  drawn  towards  you.  There  also  occurred  to 
me  a  pretty  little  story  which  happened  some  time  ago 
when  I  was  in  Italy  ;  I  will  tell  it  to  you,  since  it  is  a 
remarkable  illustration  of  what  true  friendship  can  do. 

"  It  chanced  that  a  noble  prince,  a  warm  patron  and 
friend  of  the  Fine  Arts,  offered  a  very  large  prize  for  a 


IOO 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


painting,  the  subject  of  which  was  definitely  fixed,  and 
which,  though  a  splendid  subject,  was  one  difficult  to 
treat.  Two  young  painters,  united  by  the  closest  bond 
of  friendship  and  wont  to  work  together,  resolved  to 
compete  for  the  prize.  They  communicated  their  de- 
signs to  each  other  and  had  long  talks  as  to  how  they 
should  overcome  the  difficulties  connected  with  the 
subject.  The  elder,  more  experienced  in  drawing  and 
in  arrangement  and  grouping,  had  soon  formed  a  con- 
ception of  the  picture  and  sketched  it  ;  then  he  went 
to  the  younger,  whom  he  found  so  discouraged  in  the 
very  designing  that  he  would  have  given  the  scheme  up, 
had  not  the  elder  constantly  encouraged  him,  and  im- 
parted to  him  good  advice.  But  when  they  began  to 
paint,  the  younger,  a  master  in  colour,  wTas  able  to  give 
his  friend  many  a  hint,  which  he  turned  to  the  best  ac- 
count ;  and  eventually  it  was  found  that  the  younger 
had  never  designed  a  better  picture,  nor  the  elder 
coloured  one  better.  The  pieces  being  finished,  the 
two  artists  fell  upon  each  other's  neck  ;  each  was  de- 
lighted, enraptured,  with  the  other's  work,  and  each 
adjudged  the  prize,  which  they  both  deserved,  to  his 
friend.  But  when,  eventually,  the  prize  was  declared 
to  have  fallen  to  the  younger,  he  cried,  ashamed,  1  Oh  ! 
how  can  I  have  gained  the  prize  ?  What  is  my  merit 
in  comparison  with  that  of  my  friend  ?  I  should  never 
have  produced  anything  at  all  good  without  his  advice 
and  valuable  assistance.'  Then  said  the  elder,  'And 
did  not  you  too  stand  by  me  with  invaluable  counsel  ? 
My  picture  is  certainly  not  bad  ;  but  yours  has  carried 
off  the  prize  as  it  deserved.  To  strive  honestly  and 
openly  towards  the  same  goal,  that  is  the  way  of  true 
friends  ;  the  wreath  which  the  victor  wins  confers  hon- 
our also  upon  the  vanquished.  I  love  you  now  all  the 
more  that  you  have  so  bravely  striven,  and  in  your  vie- 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


IOI 


tory  I  also  reap  fame  and  honour.'  And  the  painter 
was  right,  was  he  not,  Frederick  ?  Honest  contention 
for  the  same  prize,  without  any  malicious  reserve,  ought 
to  unite  true  friends  still  more  and  knit  their  hearts 
still  closer,  instead  of  setting  them  at  variance.  Ought 
there  to  be  any  room  in  noble  minds  for  petty  envy 
or  malicious  hate  ?  "  "  Never,  certainly  not,"  replied 
Frederick.  "We  are  now  faithful  loving  brothers,  and 
shall  both  in  a  short  time  construct  our  masterpiece  in 
Nuremburg,  a  good  two-tun  cask,  made  without  fire  ; 
but  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  feel  the  least  spark  of 
envy  if  yours,  dear  brother  Reinhold,  turned  out  to  be 
better  than  mine."  "  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  Reinhold 
heartily,  "go  on  with  you  and  your  masterpiece  ;  you'll 
soon  manage  that  to  the  joy  of  all  good  coopers.  And 
let  me  tell  you  that  in  all  that  concerns  calculation  of 
size  and  proportion,  and  drawing  plans  of  sections  of 
circles,  you'll  find  I'm  your  man.  And  then  in  choos- 
ing your  wood  you  may  rely  fully  upon  me.  Staves  of 
the  holm  oak  felled  in  winter,  without  worm-holes, 
without  either  red  or  white  streaks,  and  without  blem- 
ish, that's  what  we  must  look  for  ;  you  may  trust  my 
eyes.  I  will  stand  by  you  with  all  the  help  I  can,  in 
both  deed  and  counsel ;  and  my  own  masterpiece  will 
be  none  the  worse  for  it."  "  But  in  the  name  of  all 
that's  holy,"  broke  in  Frederick  here,  "why  are  we 
chattering  about  who  is  to  make  the  best  masterpiece  ? 
Are  we  to  have  any  contest  about  the  matter  ? — the  best 
masterpiece — to  gain  Rose  !  What  are  we  thinking 
about?  The  very  thought  makes  me  giddy."  "  Marry, 
brother,"  cried  Reinhold,  still  laughing,  "  there  was  no 
thought  at  all  of  Rose.  You  are  a  dreamer.  Come 
along,  let  us  go  on  if  we  are  to  get  into  the  town." 
Frederick  leapt  to  his  feet,  and  went  on  his  way,  his 
mind  in  a  whirl  of  confusion. 


I02 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


As  they  were  washing  and  brushing  off  the  dust  of 
travel  in  the  hostelry,  Reinhold  said  to  Frederick,  "  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  for  my  part  don't  know  for  what 
master  I  shall  work  ;  I  have  no  acquaintances  here  at 
all ;  and  I  thought  you  would  perhaps  take  me  along 
with  you  to  Master  Martin's,  brother  ?  Perhaps  I  may 
get  taken  on  by  him."  "  You  remove  a  heavy  load 
from  my  heart,"  replied  Frederick,  "  for  if  you  will  only 
stay  with  me,  it  will  be  easier  for  me  to  conquer  my  anx- 
iety and  nervousness."  And  so  the  two  young  appren- 
tices trudged  sturdily  on  to  the  house  of  the  famed 
cooper,  Master  Martin. 

It  happened  to  be  the  very  Sunday  on  which  Master 
Martin  gave  his  feast  in  honour  of  his  election  as 
"  Candle-master ; "  and  the  two  arrived  just  as  they 
were  partaking  of  the  good  cheer.  So  it  was  that  as 
Reinhold  and  Frederick  entered  into  Master  Martin's 
house  they  heard  the  ringing  of  glasses  and  the  con- 
fused buzz  and  rattle  of  a  merry  company  at  a  feast. 
"Oh!"  said  Frederick  quite  cast  down,  "we  have,  it 
seems,  come  at  an  unseasonable  time."  "Nay,  I  think 
we  have  come  exactly  at  the  right  time,"  replied  Rein- 
hold,  "for  Master  Martin  is  sure  to  be  in  good  humour 
after  a  good  feast,  and  well  disposed  to  grant  our  wishes." 
They  caused  their  arrival  to  be  announced  to  Master 
Martin,  and  soon  he  appeared  in  the  entrance-passage, 
dressed  in  holiday  garb  and  with  no  small  amount  of 
colour  in  his  nose  and  on  his  cheeks.  On  catching 
sight  of  Frederick  he  cried,  "  Holla  !  Frederick,  my 
good  lad,  have  you  come  home  again  ?  That's  fine  ! 
And  so  you  have  taken  up  the  best  of  all  trades — coop- 
erage. Herr  Holzschuer  cuts  confounded  wry  faces 
when  your  name  is  mentioned,  and  says  a  great  artist 
is  ruined  in  you,  and  that  you  could  have  cast  little 
images  and  espaliers  as  fine  as  those  in  St.  Sebald's  or 


MASTER  MARTIN.  103 

on  Fugger's  1  house  at  Augsburg.  But  that's  all  non- 
sense ;  you  have  done  quite  right  to  step  across  the  way 
here.  Welcome,  lad,  welcome  with  all  my  heart."  And 
therewith  Herr  Martin  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and 
drew  him  to  his  bosom,  as  was  his  wont,  thoroughly 
well  pleased.  This  kind  reception  by  Master  Martin 
infused  new  spirits  into  Frederick  ;  all  his  nervousness 
left  him,  so  that  unhesitatingly  and  without  constraint 
he  was  able  not  only  to  prefer  his  own  request  but  also 
warmly  to  recommend  Reinhold.  "  Well,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,"  said  Master  Martin,  "  you  could  not  have 
come  at  a  more  fortunate  time  than  just  now,  for  work 
keeps  increasing  and  I  am  bankrupt  of  wTorkmen.  You 
are  both  heartily  welcome.  Put  your  bundles  down 
and  come  in  ;  our  meal  is  indeed  almost  finished,  but 
you  can  come  and  take  your  seats  at  the  table,  and 
Rose  shall  look  after  you  and  get  you  something."  And 
Master  Martin  and  the  two  journeymen  went  into  the 
room.  There  sat  the  honest  masters,  the  worthy  syndic 
Jacobus  Paumgartner  at  their  head,  all  wTith  hot  red 
faces.  Dessert  was  being  served,  and  a  better  brand  of 
wine  was  sparkling  in  the  glasses.  Every  master  was 
talking  about  something  different  from  all  his  neigh- 
bours and  in  a  loud  voice,  and  yet  they  all  thought  they 
understood  each  other  ;  and  now  and  again  some  of 
them  burst  out  in  a  hearty  laugh  without  exactly  know- 
ing why.  When,  however,  Master  Martin  came  back, 
leading  the  two  young  men  by  the  hand,  and  announced 
aloud  that  he  brought  two  journeymen  who  had  come 
to  him  well  provided  with  testimonials  just  at  the  time 
he  wanted  them,  then  all  grew  silent,  each  master  scru- 

1  The  family  of  Fugger,  which  rose  from  the  position  of  poor 
weavers  to  be  the  richest  merchant  princes  in  Augsburg,  decorated 
their  house  with  frescoes  externally,  like  so  many  other  old  German 
families. 


io4  MASTER  MARTIN. 

tinising  the  smart  young  fellows  with  a  smile  of  com- 
fortable satisfaction,  whilst  Frederick  cast  his  eyes  down 
and  twisted  his  baretta  about  in  his  hands.  Master 
Martin  directed  the  youths  to  places  at  the  very  bottom 
of  the  table  ;  but  these  were  soon  the  very  best  of  all, 
for  Rose  came  and  took  her  seat  between  the  two,  and 
served  them  attentively  both  with  dainty  dishes  and 
with  good  rich  wine.  There  was  Rose,  a  most  winsome 
picture  of  grace  and  loveliness,  seated  between  the  two 
handsome  youths,  all  in  midst  of  the  bearded  old  men 
— it  was  a  right  pleasant  sight  to  see  ;  the  mind  in- 
stantly recalled  a  bight  morning  cloud  rising  solitary 
above  the  dim  dark  horizon,  or  beautiful  spring  flow- 
ers lifting  up  their  bright  heads  from  amidst  the  uni- 
form colourless  grass.  Frederick  was  so  very  happy  and 
so  very  delighted  that  his  breath  almost  failed  him  for 
joy  ;  and  only  now  and  again  did  he  venture  to  steal  a 
glance  at  her  who  filled  his  heart  so  fully.  His  eyes 
were  fixedly  bent  upon  his  plate  ;  how  could  he  possi- 
bly dream  of  eating  the  least  morsel  ?  Reinhold,  on 
the  other  hand,  could  not  turn  his  sparkling,  radiant 
eyes  away  from  the  lovely  maiden.  He  began  to  talk 
about  his  long  journeys  in  such  a  wonderful  way  that 
Rose  had  never  heard  anything  like  it.  She  seemed  to 
see  everything  of  which  he  spoke  rise  up  vividly  before 
her  in  manifold  ever-changing  forms.  She  was  all  eyes 
and  ears  ;  and  when  Reinhold,  carried  away  by  the  fire 
of  his  own  words,  grasped  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
his  heart,  she  didn't  know  where  she  was.  "  But  bless 
me,"  broke  off  Reinhold  all  at  once,  "  why,  Frederick, 
you  are  quite  silent  and  still.  Have  you  lost  your 
tongue  ?  Come,  let  us  drink  to  the  weal  of  the  lovely 
maiden  who  has  so  hospitably  entertained  us."  With 
a  trembling  hand  Frederick  seized  the  huge  drinking- 
glass  that  Reinhold  had  filled  to  the  brim  and  now  in- 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


105 


sisted  on  his  draining  to  the  last  drop.  "  Now  here's 
long  life  to  our  excellent  master,"  cried  Reinhold,  again 
filling  the  glasses  and  again  compelling  Frederick  to 
empty  his.  Then  the  fiery  juices  of  the  wine  permeated 
his  veins  and  stirred  up  his  stagnant  blood  until  it 
coursed  as  it  were  triumphantly  through  his  every  limb. 
14  Oh  !  I  feel  so  indescribably  happy,"  he  whispered, 
the  burning  blushes  mounting  into  his  cheeks.  "  Oh  ! 
I  have  never  felt  so  happy  in  all  my  life  before."  Rose, 
who  undoubtedly  gave  another  interpretation  to  his 
words,  smiled  upon  him  with  incomparable  gentleness. 
Then,  quit  of  all  his  embarrassing  shyness,  Frederick 
said,  "  Dear  Rose,  I  suppose  you  no  longer  remember 
me,  do  you  ? "  "  But,  dear  Frederick,"  replied  Rose, 
casting  down  her  eyes,  "  how  could  I  possibly  forget 
you  in  so  short  a  time  ?  When  you  were  at  Herr  Holz- 
schuer's — true,  I  was  only  a  mere  child  then,  yet  you 
did  not  disdain  to  play  with  me,  and  always  had  some- 
thing nice  and  pretty  to  talk  about.  And  that  dear 
little  basket  made  of  fine  silver  wire  that  you  gave  me 
at  Christmas-time,  I've  got  it  still,  and  I  take  care  of  it 
and  keep  it  as  a  precious  memento."  Frederick  was 
intoxicated  with  delight  and  tears  glittered  in  his  eyes. 
He  tried  to  speak,  but  there  only  burst  from  his  breast, 
like  a  deep  sigh,  the  words,  "  O  Rose — dear,  dear  Rose." 
"  I  have  always  really  from  my  heart  longed  to  see  you 
again,"  went  on  Rose  ;  "  but  that  you  would  become  a 
cooper,  that  I  never  for  a  moment  dreamed.  Oh  !  when 
I  call  to  mind  the  beautiful  things  that  you  made  whilst 
you  were  with  Master  Holzschuer — oh  !  it  really  is  a 
pity  that  you  have  not  stuck  to  your  art."  "  O  Rose," 
said  Frederick,  "it  is  only  for  your  sake  that  I  have 
become  unfaithful  to  it."  No  sooner  had  lie  uttered 
these  words  than  he  could  have  sunk  into  the  earth  for 
shame  and  confusion.    He  had  most  thoughtlessly  let 


io6 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


the  confession  slip  over  his  lips.  Rose,  as  if  divining 
all,  turned  her  face  away  from  him  ;  whilst  he  in  vain 
struggled  for  words. 

Then  Herr  Paumgartner  struck  the  table  a  bang 
with  his  knife,  and  announced  to  the  company  that 
Herr  Vollrad,  a  worthy  Meistersinger^  would  favour 
them  with  a  song.  Herr  Vollrad  at  once  rose  to  his 
feet,  cleared  his  throat,  and  sang  such  an  excellent 
song  in  the  Giildne  Tomueis*  of  Herr  Vogelgesang 
that  everybody's  heart  leapt  with  joy,  and  even  Fred- 
erick recovered  himself  from  his  awkward  embarrass- 
ment again.      After  Herr  Vollrad  had  sung  several 

1  During  the  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and  sixteenth  centuries  there  ex- 
isted in  many  German  towns  (Nuremberg,  Frankfort,  Strasburg,  Ulm, 
Mayence,  &c.)  associations  or  guild-like  corporations  of  burghers,  the 
object  of  which  was  the  cultivation  of  song  in  the  same  systematic  way 
that  the  mechanical  arts  were  practised.  They  framed  strict  and  well- 
defined  codes  of  rules  (Tablatures)  by  means  of  which  they  tested  a 
singer's  capabilities.  As  the  chief  aims  which  they  set  before  them- 
selves were  the  invention  of  new  tunes  or  melodies,  and  also  songs 
(words),  it  resulted  that  they  fell  into  the  inevitable  vice  of  cold  for- 
malism, and  banished  the  true  spirit  of  poetry  by  their  many  arbitrary 
rules  about  rhyme,  measure,  and  melody,  and  the  dry  business-like 
manner  in  which  they  worked.  The  guild  or  company  generally  con- 
sisted of  five  distinct  grades,  the  ultimate  one  being  that  of  master,  en- 
trance into  which  was  only  permitted  to  the  man  who  had  invented  a 
new  melody  or  tune,  and  had  sung  it  in  public  without  offending 
against  any  of  the  laws  of  the  Tablature.  The  subjects,  which,  as 
the  singers  were  honest  burghers,  could  not  be  taken  from  topics  in 
which  chivalric  life  took  any  interest,  were  mostly  restricted  to  fables, 
legendary  lore,  and  consisted  very  largely  of  Biblical  narratives  and 
passages. 

2  These  words  are  the  names  of  various  "tunes,"  and  signified  in 
each  case  a  particular  metre,  rhyme,  melody,  &c,  so  that  each  was  a 
brief  definition  of  a  number  of  individual  items,  so  to  speak.  These 
Meistersinger  technical  terms  (or  slang  ?)  are  therefore  not  translat- 
able, nor  could  they  be  made  intelligible  by  paraphrase,  even  if  the 
requisite  information  for  each  instance  were  at  hand. 


MASTER  MARTIN.  107 

other  excellent  songs  to  several  other  excellent  tunes, 
such  as  the  Süsser  Ton,  the  Kriunmzinkenweis,  the  Ge- 
blümte Paradiesweis,  the  Frisch  Pomeranzenweis,  &c,  he 
called  upon  any  one  else  at  the  table  who  understood 
anything  of  the  sweet  and  delectable  art  of  the  Meister- 
singer also  to  honour  them  with  a  song.  Then  Reinhold 
rose  to  his  feet  and  said  that  if  he  might  be  allowed  to 
accompany  himself  on  his  lute  in  the  Italian  fashion  he 
would  give  them  a  song,  keeping,  however,  strictly  to 
the  German  tune.  As  nobody  had  any  objection  he 
fetched  his  instrument,  and,  after  a  little  tuneful  pre- 
lude, began  the  following  song  : — 

Where  is  the  little  fount 
Where  sparkles  the  spicy  wine  ? 
From  forth  its  golden  depths 
Its  golden  sparkles  mount 
And  dance  'fore  the  gladdened  eye. 
This  beautiful  little  fount 
Wherein  the  golden  wine 
Sparkles — who  made  it, 
With  thoughtful  skill  and  fine, 
With  such  high  art  and  industry, 
That  praise  deserve  so  well  ? 
This  little  fount  so  gay, 
Wrought  with  high  art  and  fine, 
Was  fashioned  by  one 
Who  ne'er  an  artist  was — 
But  a  brave  young  cooper  he, 
His  veins  with  rich  wine  glowing, 
His  heart  with  true  love  singing, 
And  ever  lovingly — 
For  that's  young  cooper's  way 
In  all  the  things  he  does. 

This  song  pleased  them  all  down  to  the  ground,  but 
none  more  so  than  Master  Martin,  whose  eyes  sparkled 
with  pleasure  and  delight.  Without  heeding  Vollrad, 
who  had  almost  too  much  to  say  about  Hans  Miiller's 


io8 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


Stumpfe  Schossiveis,  which  the  youth  had  caught  excel- 
lently well, — Master  Martin,  without  heeding  him,  rose 
from  his  seat,  and,  lifting  his  passglas 1  above  his  head, 
called  aloud,  "  Come  here,  honest  cooper  and  Meister- 
singer, come  here  and  drain  this  glass  with  me,  your 
Master  Martin."  Reinhold  had  to  do  as  he  was  bidden. 
Returning  to  his  place,  he  whispered  into  Frederick's 
ear,  who  was  looking  very  pensive,  "Now,  you  must 
sing — sing  the  song  you  sang  last  night."  "Are  you 
mad  ? "  asked  Frederick,  quite  angry.  But  Reinhold 
turned  to  the  company  and  said  in  a  loud  voice,  "  My 
honoured  gentlemen  and  masters,  my  dear  brother  Fred- 
erick here  can  sing  far  liner  songs,  and  has  a  much 
pleasanter  voice  than  I  have,  but  his  throat  has  got  full 
of  dust  from  his  travels,  and  he  will  treat  you  to  some 
of  his  songs  another  time,  and  then  to  the  most  admi- 
rable tunes."  And  they  all  began  to  shower  down  their 
praises  upon  Frederick,  as  if  he  had  already  sung.  In- 
deed, in  the  end,  more  than  one  of  the  masters  was  of 
opinion  that  his  voice  was  really  more  agreeable  than 
journeyman  Reinhold's,  and  Herr  Vollrad  also,  after  he 
had  drunk  another  glass,  was  convinced  that  Frederick 
could  use  the  beautiful  German  tunes  far  better  than 
Reinhold,  for  the  latter  had  too  much  of  the  Italian 
style  about  him.  And  Master  Martin,  throwing  his 
head  back  into  his  neck,  and  giving  his  round  belly  a 
hearty  slap,  cried,  "  Those  are  my  journeymen,  my 
journeymen,  I  tell  you — mine,  master-cooper  Tobias 
Martin's  of  Nuremberg."  And  all  the  other  masters 
nodded  their  heads  in  assent,  and,  sipping  the  last 
drops  out  of  the  bottom  of  their  tall  glasses,  said,  "  Yes, 

1  A  glass  divided  by  means  of  marks  placed  at  intervals  from  top  to 
bottom.  It  was  usual  for  one  who  was  invited  to  drink  to  drink  out 
of  the  challenger's  glass  down  to  the  mark  next  below  the  top  of  the 
liquid. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


109 


yes.  Your  brave,  honest  journeymen,  Master  Martin — 
that  they  are."  At  length  it  was  time  to  retire  to  rest. 
Master  Martin  led  Reinhold  and  Frederick  each  into  a 
bright  cheerful  room  in  his  own  house. 

How  the  third  journeyman  ca??ie  into  Master  Martin' s  house, 
and  what  followed  in  consequence. 

After  the  two  journeymen  had  worked  for  some 
weeks  in  Master  Martin's  workshop,  he  perceived  that 
in  all  that  concerned  measurement  with  rule  and  com- 
pass, and  calculation,  and  estimation  of  measure  and 
size  by  eyesight,  Reinhold  could  hardly  find  his  match, 
but  it  was  a  different  thing  when  it  came  to  hard  work 
at  the  bench  or  with  the  adze  or  the  mallet.  Then 
Reinhold  soon  grew  tired,  and  the  work  did  not  pro- 
gress, no  matter  how  great  efforts  he  might  make.  On 
the  other  hand,  Frederick  planed  and  hammered  away 
without  growing  particularly  tired.  But  one  thing 
they  had  in  common  with  each  other,  and  that  was 
their  well-mannered  behaviour,  marked,  principally  at 
Reinhold's  instance,  by  much  natural  cheerfulness  and 
good-natured  enjoyment.  Besides,  even  when  hard  at 
work,  they  did  not  spare  their  throats,  especially  when 
pretty  Rose  was  present,  but  sang  many  an  excellent 
song,  their  pleasant  voices  harmonising  well  together. 
And  whenever  Frederick,  glancing  shyly  across  at 
Rose,  seemed  to  be  falling  into  his  melancholy  mood, 
Reinhold  at  once  struck  up  a  satirical  song  that  he 
composed,  beginning,  "The  cask  is  not  the  cither,  nor 
is  the  cither  the  cask,"  so  that  old  Herr  Martin  often 
had  to  let  the  croze-adze  which  he  had  raised,  sink 
again  without  striking  and  hold  his  big  belly  as  it 
wabbled  from  his  internal  laughter.  Above  all,  the 
two  journeymen,  and  mainly  Reinhold,  had  completely 
won  their  way  into  Martin's  favour;  and  it  was  not  diffi- 


I  IO 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


cult  to  observe  that  Rose  found  a  good  many  pretexts 
for  lingering  oftener  and  longer  in  the  workshop  than 
she  certainly  otherwise  would  have  done. 

One  day  Master  Martin  entered  his  open  workshop 
outside  the  town-gate,  where  work  was  carried  on  all 
the  summer  through,  with  his  brow  weighted  with 
thought.  Reinhold  and  Frederick  were  in  the  act  of 
setting  up  a  small  cask.  Then  Master  Martin  planted 
himself  before  them  with  his  arms  crossed  over  his 
chest  and  said,  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  pleased  I  am 
with  you,  my  good  journeymen,  but  I  am  just  now  in 
a  great  difficulty.  They  write  me  from  the  Rhine 
that  this  will  be  a  more  prosperous  wine-year  than 
there  ever  has  been  before.  A  learned  man  says  that 
the  comet  which  has  been  seen  in  the  heavens  will 
fructify  the  earth  with  its  wonderful  tail,  so  that  the 
glowing  heat  which  fabricates  the  precious  metals 
down  in  the  deepest  mines  will  all  stream  upwards  and 
evaporate  into  the  thirsty  vines,  till  they  prosper  and 
thrive  and  put  forth  multitudes  of  grapes,  and  the 
liquid  fire  with  which  they  are  filled  will  be  poured  out 
into  the  grapes.  It  will  be  almost  three  hundred 
years  before  such  a  favourable  constellation  occurs 
again.  So  now  we  shall  all  have  our  hands  full  of 
work.  And  then  there's  his  Lordship  the  Bishop  of 
Bamberg  has  written  to  me  and  ordered  a  large  cask. 
That  we  can't  get  done ;  and  I  shall  have  to  look 
about  for  another  useful  journeyman.  Now  I  should 
not  like  to  take  the  first  fellow  I  meet  off  the  street 
amongst  us,  and  yet  the  matter  is  very  urgent.  If  you 
know  of  a  good  journeyman  anywhere  whom  you 
would  be  willing  to  work  with,  you  have  only  to  tell 
me,  and  I  will  get  him  here,  even  though  it  should  cost 
me  a  good  sum  of  money." 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


in 


Hardly  had  Master  Martin  finished  speaking  when  a 
young  man,  tall  and  stalwart,  shouted  to  him  in  a 
loud  voice,  "  Hi  !  you  there  !  is  this  Master  Martin's 
workshop  ? "  "  Certainly,"  replied  Master  Martin, 
going  towards  the  young  man,  "certainly  it  is;  but 
you  needn't  shout  so  deuced  loud  and  lumber  in  like 
that ;  that's  not  the  way  to  find  people."  "  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  ! "  laughed  the  young  fellow,  "  marry,  you  are 
Master  Martin  himself,  for — fat  belly — stately  double- 
chin — sparkling  eyes,  and  red  nose — yes,  that's  just 
how  he  was  described  to  me.  I  bid  you  good  hail, 
Master  Martin."  "  Well,  and  what  do  you  want  from 
Master  Martin  ? "  he  asked,  indignantly.  The  young 
fellow  replied,  "  I  am  a  journeyman  cooper,  and  merely 
wanted  to  ask  if  I  could  find  work  with  you."  Marvel- 
ling that  just  as  he  was  thinking  about  looking  out  for 
a  journeyman  one  should  come  to  him  like  this,  Master 
Martin  drew  back  a  few  paces  and  eyed  the  young  man 
from  head  to  foot.  He,  however,  met  the  scrutiny  un- 
abashed and  with  sparkling  eyes.  Noting  his  broad 
chest,  stalwart  build,  and  powerful  arms,  Master  Martin 
thought  within  himself,  it's  just  such  a  lusty  fellow  as 
this  that  I  want,  and  he  at  once  asked  him  for  his  trade 
testimonials.1  "I  haven't  them  with  me  just  at  this 
present  moment,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  but  I  will 
get  them  in  a  short  time  ;  and  I  give  you  now  my  word 
of  honour  that  I  will  work  well  and  honestly,  and  that 
must  suffice  you."  Thereupon,  without  waiting  for 
Master  Martin's  reply,  the  young  journeyman  stepped 
into  the  workshop.    He  threw  down  his  baretta  and 

1  These  would  consist  of  the  certificate  of  his  admission  into  the 
ranks  of  the  journeymen  of  the  guild,  of  the  certificates  of  proper  dis- 
missal signed  by  the  various  masters  for  whom  he  had  worked  whilst 
on  travel,  together  with  testimonials  of  good  conduct  from  the  same 
masters. 


112 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


bundle,  took  off  his  doublet,  put  on  his  apron,  and 
said,  "Come,  Master  Martin,  tell  me  at  once  what  I  am 
to  begin  with."  Master  Martin,  completely  taken 
aback  by  the  young  stranger's  resolute  vigour  and 
promptitude,  had  to  think  a  little  ;  then  he  said,  "  Come 
then,  my  fine  fellow,  and  show  me  at  once  that  you  are 
a  good  cooper  ;  take  this  croze-adze  and  finish  the 
groove  of  that  cask  lying  in  the  vice  yonder."  The 
stranger  performed  what  he  had  been  bidden  with  re- 
markable strength,  quickness,  and  skill  ;  and  then  he 
cried,  laughing  loudly,  "  Now,  Master  Martin,  have 
you  any  doubts  now  as  to  my  being  a  good  cooper  ? 
But,"  he  continued,  going  backwards  *and  forwards 
through  the  shop,  and  examining  the  instruments  and 
tools,  and  supply  of  wood,  "  but  though  you  are  well 
supplied  with  useful  stores  and — but  what  do  you  call 
this  little  thing  of  a  mallet  ?  I  suppose  it's  for  your 
children  to  play  with  ;  and  this  little  adze  here — why 
it  must  be  for  your  apprentices  when  they  first  begin," 
and  he  swung  round  his  head  the  huge  heavy  mallet 
which  Reinhold  could  not  lift  and  which  Frederick  had 
great  difficulty  in  wielding  ;  and  then  he  did  the  same 
with  the  ponderous  adze  with  which  Master  Martin 
himself  worked.  Then  he  rolled  a  couple  of  huge 
casks  on  one  side  as  if  they  had  been  light  balls,  and 
seized  one  of  the  large  thick  beams  which  had  not  yet 
been  worked  at.  "  Marry,  master,"  he  cried,  "  marry, 
this  is  good  sound  oak  ;  I  wager  it  will  snap  like  glass." 
And  thereupon  he  struck  the  stave  against  the  grind- 
stone so  that  it  broke  clean  in  half  with  a  loud  crack. 
"  Pray  be  so  kind,"  said  Master  Martin,  "pray  have  the 
kindness,  my  good  fellow,  to  kick  that  two-tun  cask 
about  or  to  pull  down  the  whole  shop.  There,  you  can 
take  that  balk  for  a  mallet,  and  that  you  may  have  an 
adze  to  your  mind  I  will  have  Roland's  sword,  which  is 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


three  yards  long,  fetched  for  you  from  the  town-house." 
"Ay,  do,  that's  just  the  thing,"  said  the  young  man,  his 
eyes  flashing ;  but  the  next  minute  he  cast  them  down 
upon  the  ground  and  said,  lowering  his  voice,  "  I  only 
thought,  good  master,  that  you  wanted  right  strong 
journeymen  for  your  heavy  work,  and  now  I  have,  I 
see,  been  too  forward,  too  swaggering,  in  displaying 
my  bodily  strength.  But  do  take  me  on  to  work,  I 
will  faithfully  do  whatever  you  shall  require  of  me." 
Master  Martin  scanned  the  youth's  features,  and  could 
not  but  admit  that  he  had  never  seen  more  nobility  and 
at  the  same  time  more  downright  honesty  in  any  man's 
face.  And  yet,  as  he  looked  upon  the  young  fellow, 
there  stole  into  his  mind  a  dim  recollection  of  some 
man  whom  he  had  long  esteemed  and  honoured,  but  he 
could  not  clearly  call  to  mind  who  it  was.  For  this 
reason  he  granted  the  young  man's  request  on  the  spot, 
only  enjoining  upon  him  to  produce  at  the  earliest 
opportunity  the  needful  credible  trade  attestations. 

Meanwhile  Reinhold  and  Frederick  had  finished  set- 
ting up  their  cask  and  were  now  busy  driving  on  the 
first  hoops.  Whilst  doing  this  they  were  always  in  the 
habit  of  striking  up  a  song ;  and  on  this  occasion  they 
began  a  good  song  in  Adam  Puschmann's  Stieglitzweis. 
Then  Conrad  (that  was  the  name  of  the  new  journey- 
man) shouted  across  from  the  bench  where  Master 
Martin  had  placed  him,  "  By  my  troth,  what  squalling 
do  you  call  that  ?  I  could  fancy  I  hear  mice  squeaking 
somewhere  about  the  shop.  An  you  mean  to  sing  at 
all,  sing  so  that  it  will  cheer  the  heart  and  make  the 
work  go  down  well.  That's  how  I  sing  a  bit  now  and 
again."  And  he  began  to  bellow  out  a  noisy  hunting 
ditty  with  its  hollas !  and  hoy,  boys !  and  he  imitated 
the  yelping  of  the  hounds  and  the  shrill  shouts  of  the 
hunters  in  such  a  clear,  keen,  stentorian  voice  that  the 
Vol.  IL— 8 


ii4 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


huge  casks  rang  again  and  all  the  workshop  echoed. 
Master  Martin  held  his  hands  over  his  ears,  and  Dame 
Martha's  (Valentine's  widow)  little  boys,  who  were 
playing  in  the  shop,  crept  timorously  behind  the  piled- 
up  staves.  Just  at  this  moment  Rose  came  in,  amazed, 
nay,  frightened  at  the  terrible  noise  ;  it  could  not  be 
called  singing  anyhow.  As  soon  as  Conrad  observed 
her,  he  at  once  stopped,  and  leaving  his  bench  he 
approached  her  and  greeted  her  with  the  most  polished 
grace.  Then  he  said  in  a  gentle  voice,  whilst  an  ardent 
fire  gleamed  in  his  bright  brown  eyes,  "  Lovely  lady, 
what  a  sweet  rosy  light  shone  into  this  humble  work- 
man's hut  when  you  came  in!  Oh!  had  I  but  perceived 
you  sooner,  I  had  not  outraged  your  tender  ears  with 
my  wild  hunting  ditty."  Then,  turning  to  Master 
Martin  and  the  other  journeymen,  he  cried,  "  Oh  !  do 
stop  your  abominable  knocking  and  rattling.  As  long 
as  this  gracious  lady  honours  us  with  her  presence,  let 
mallets  and  drivers  rest.  Let  us  only  listen  to  her 
sweet  voice,  and  with  bowed  head  hearken  to  what  she 
may  command  us,  her  humble  servants."  Reinhold 
and  Frederick  looked  at  each  other  utterly  amazed  ; 
but  Master  Martin  burst  out  laughing  and  said,  "Well, 
Conrad,  it  is  now  plain  that  you  are  the  most  ridiculous 
donkey  who  ever  put  on  apron.  First  you  come  here 
and  want  to  break  everything  to  pieces  like  an  uncul- 
tivated giant ;  then  you  bellow  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  our  ears  tingle  ;  and,  as  a  fitting  climax  to  all 
your  foolishness,  you  take  my  little  daughter  Rose  for 
a  lady  of  rank  and  act  like  a  love-smitten  Junker." 
Conrad  replied,  coolly,  "Your  lovely  daughter  I  know 
very  well,  my  worthy  Master  Martin  ;  but  I  tell  you 
that  she  is  the  most  peerless  lady  who  treads  the  earth, 
and  if  Heaven  grant  it  she  would  honour  the  very 
noblest  of  Junkers  by  permitting  him  to  be  her  Paladin 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


in  faithful  knightly  love."  Master  Martin  held  his 
sides,  and  it  was  only  by  giving  vent  to  his  laughter  in 
hums  and  haws  that  he  prevented  himself  from  chok- 
ing. As  soon  as  he  could  at  all  speak,  he  stammered, 
"  Good,  very  good,  my  most  excellent  youth  ;  you  may 
continue  to  regard  my  daughter  as  a  lady  of  high  rank, 
I  shall  not  hinder  you  ;  but,  irrespective  of  that,  will 
you  have  the  goodness  to  go  back  to  your  bench  ? " 
Conrad  stood  as  if  spell-bound,  his  eyes  cast  down 
upon  the  ground  ;  and  rubbing  his  forehead,  he  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "Ay,  it  is  so,"  and  did  as  he  was  bidden. 
Rose,  as  she  always  did  in  the  shop,  sat  down  upon  a 
small  cask,  which  Frederick  placed  for  her,  and  which 
Reinhold  carefully  dusted.  At  Master  Martin's  express 
desire  they  again  struck  up  the  admirable  song  in 
which  they  had  been  so  rudely  interrupted  by  Conrad's 
bluster  ;  but  he  went  on  with  his  work  at  the  bench, 
quite  still,  and  entirely  wrapped  up  in  his  own  thoughts. 

When  the  song  came  to  an  end  Master  Martin  said, 
"  Heaven  has  endowed  you  with  a  noble  gift,  my 
brave  lads  ;  you  would  not  believe  how  highly  I  value 
the  delectable  art  of  song.  Why,  once  I  wanted  to 
be  a  Meistersinger  myself,  but  I  could  not  manage  it, 
even  though  I  tried  all  I  knew  how.  All  that  I  gained 
by  my  efforts  was  ridicule  and  mockery.  In  '  Volun- 
tary Singing'1  I  either  got  into  false  'appendages,' 

1  On  these  great  singing  days,  generally  on  Sundays  in  the  churches, 
and  on  special  occasions  in  the  town-house,  the  "performances"  con- 
sisted of  three  parts.  I.  First  came  a  "Voluntary  Solo-Singing,"  in 
which  anybody,  even  a  stranger,  might  participate,  no  contest  being 
entered  into,  and  no  rewards  given.  2.  This  was  followed  by  a  song 
by  all  the  masters  in  chorus.  3.  Then  came  the  "  Principal  Singing," 
the  chief  "event "  of  the  day — the  actual  singing  contest.  Four  judges 
were  appointed  to  examine  those  who  successively  presented  themselves, 
being  guided  by  the  strict  laws  and  regulations  of  the  Tablatures. 
Those  who  violated  these  laws,  that  is,  who  made  mistakes,  had  to 


n6 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


or  ' double  notes,'  or  a  wrong  'measure,'  or  an  unsuit- 
able 'embellishment,'  or  started  the  wrong  melody 
altogether.  But  you  will  succeed  better,  and  it  shall 
be  said,  what  the  master  can't  do,  his  journeymen  can. 
Next  Sunday  after  the  sermon  there  will  be  a  singing 
contest  by  the  Meistersinger  at  the  usual  time  in  St. 
Catherine's  Church.  But  before  the  '  Principal  Sing- 
ing' there  will  be  a  'Voluntary,'  in  which  you  may 
both  of  you  win  praise  and  honour  in  your  beautiful 
art,  for  any  stranger  who  can  sing  at  all,  may  freely 
take  part  in  this.  And,  he  !  Conrad,  my  journeyman 
Conrad,"  cried  Master  Martin  across  to  the  bench, 
"would  not  you  also  like  to  get  into  the  singing-desk 
and  treat  our  good  folk  to  your  fine  hunting-chorus  ?" 
Without  looking  up,  Conrad  replied,  "  Mock  not,  good 
master,  mock  not  ;  everything  in  its  place.  Whilst 
you  are  being  edified  by  the  Meistersinger,  I  shall  en- 
joy myself  in  my  own  way  on  the  Allerwiese." 

And  what  Master  Martin  anticipated  came  to  pass. 
Reinhold  got  into  the  singing-desk  and  sang  divers 
songs  to  divers  tunes,  with  which  all  the  Meistersingers 
were  well  pleased  ;  and  although  they  were  of  opinion 
that  the  singer  had  not  made  any  mistake,  yet  they 
had  a  slight  objection  to  urge  against  him — a  sort  of 
something  foreign  about  his  style,  but  yet  they  could 
not  say  exactly  in  what  it  consisted.  Soon  afterwards 
Frederick  took  his  seat  in  the  singing-desk  ;  and  doffing 
his  baretta,  he  stood  some  seconds  looking  silently 
before  him  ;  then  after  sending  a  glance  at  the  audi- 
ence which  entered  lovely  Rose's  bosom  like  a  burning 
arrow,  and  caused  her  to  fetch  a  deep  sigh,  he  began 


leave  the  singing-desk  ;  the  successful  ones  were,  however,  crowned 
with  wreaths,  and  had  earned  the  right  to  act  themselves  as  judges  on 
future  occasions. 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


117 


such  a  splendid  song  in  Heinrich  Frauenlob's  1  Zarter 
Ton,  that  all  the  masters  agreed  with  one  accord  there 
was  none  amongst  them  who  could  surpass  the  young 
journeyman. 

The  singing-school  came  to  an  end  towards  evening, 
and  Master  Martin,  in  order  to  finish  off  the  day's 
enjoyment  in  proper  style,  betook  himself  in  higli 
good-humour  to  the  Allerwiese  along  with  Rose.  The 
two  journeymen,  Reinhold  and  Frederick,  were  per- 
mitted to  accompany  them  ;  Rose  was  walking  between 
them.  Frederick,  radiant  with  delight  at  the  masters' 
praise,  and  intoxicated  with  happiness,  ventured  to 
breathe  many  a  daring  word  in  Rose's  ear  which  she, 
however,  casting  down  her  eyes  in  maidenly  coyness, 
pretended  not  to  hear.  Rather  she  turned  to  Rein- 
hold,  who,  according  to  his  wont,  was  running  on  with 
all  sorts  of  merry  nonsense  ;  nor  did  he  hesitate  to 
place  his  arm  in  Rose's.  Whilst  even  at  a  consider- 
able distance  from  the  Allerwiese  they  could  hear 
noisy  shouts  and  cries.  Arrived  at  the  place  where 
the  young  men  were  amusing  themselves  in  all  kinds 
of  games,  partly  chivalric,  they  heard  the  crowd  shout 
time  after  time,  "  Won  again  !  won  again  !  He's  the 
strongest  again  !  Nobody  can  compete  with  him." 
Master  Martin,  on  working  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
perceived  that  it  was  nobody  else  but  his  journeyman 
Conrad  who  was  reaping  all  this  praise  and  exciting 
the  people  to  all  this  applause.  He  had  beaten  every- 
body in  racing  and  boxing  and  throwing  the  spear.  As 
Martin  came  up,  Conrad  was  shouting  out  and  inquir- 
ing if  there  was  anybody  who  would  have  a  merry  bout 

1  Heinrich  von  Meissen,  called  Frauenlob  (died  13 18;,  after  having 
lived  at  various  courts  in  both  the  north  and  the  south  of  Germany, 
settled  at  Mayence  and  gathered  together  (131 1)  a  school  or  society  of 
burgher  singers. 


u8 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


with  him  with  blunt  swords.  This  challenge  several 
stout  young  patricians,  well  accustomed  to  this  species 
of  pastime,  stepped  forward  and  accepted.  But  it  was 
not  long  before  Conrad  had  again,  without  much 
trouble  or  exertion,  overcome  all  his  opponents  ;  and 
the  applause  at  his  skill  and  strength  seemed  as  if  it 
would  never  end. 

The  sun  had  set  ;  the  last  glow  of  evening  died 
away,  and  twilight  began  to  creep  on  apace.  Master 
Martin,  with  Rose  and  the  two  journeymen,  had 
thrown  themselves  down  beside  a  babbling  spring  of 
water.  Reinhold  was  telling  of  the  wonders  of  distant 
Italy,  but  Frederick,  quiet  and  happy,  had  his  eyes 
fixed  on  pretty  Rose's  face.  Then  Conrad  drew  near 
with  slow  hesitating  steps,  as  if  rather  undecided  in 
his  own  mind  whether  he  should  join  them  or  not. 
Master  Martin  called  to  him,  "  Come  along,  Conrad, 
come  along,  come  along  ;  you  have  borne  yourself 
bravely  on  the  meadow  ;  that's  what  I  like  in  my 
journeymen,  and  it's  what  becomes  them.  Don't  be 
shy,  lad  ;  come  and  join  us,  you  have  my  permission." 
Conrad  cast  a  withering  glance  at  his  master,  who 
however  met  it  with  a  condescending  nod  ;  then  the 
young  journeyman  said  moodily,  "  I  am  not  the  least 
bit  shy  of  you,  and  I  have  not  asked  your  permission 
whether  I  may  lie  down  here  or  not, — in  fact,  I  have 
not  come  to  you  at  all.  All  my  opponents  I  have 
stretched  in  the  sand  in  the  merry  knightly  sports,  and 
all  I  now  wanted  was  to  ask  this  lovely  lady  whether 
she  would  not  honour  me  with  the  beautiful  flowers 
she  wears  in  her  bosom,  as  the  prize  of  the  chivalric 
contest."  Therewith  he  dropped  upon  one  knee  in 
front  of  Rose,  and  looked  her  straight  and  honestly  in 
the  face  with  his  clear  brown  eyes,  and  he  begged, 
"  O  give  me  those  beautiful  flowers,  sweet  Rose,  as 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


the  prize  of  victory  ;  you  cannot  refuse  me  that." 
Rose  at  once  took  the  flowers  from  her  bosom  and 
gave  them  to  him,  laughing  and  saying,  "  Ay,  I  know 
well  that  a  brave  knight  like  you  deserves  a  token  of 
honour  from  a  lady  ;  and  so  here,  you  may  have  my 
withered  flowers."  Conrad  kissed  the  flowers  that 
were  given  him,  and  then  fastened  them  in  his  baretta  ; 
but  Master  Martin,  rising  to  his  feet,  cried,  "  There's 
another  of  your  silly  tricks — come,  let  us  be  going 
home  ;  it  is  getting  dark."  Herr  Martin  strode  on 
first ;  Conrad  with  modest  courtly  grace  took  Rose's 
arm  ;  whilst  Reinhold  and  Frederick  followed  them 
considerably  out  of  humour.  People  who  met  them, 
stopped  and  turned  round  to  look  after  them,  saying, 
"  Marry,  look  now,  look  ;  that's  the  rich  cooper 
Thomas  Martin,  with  his  pretty  little  daughter  and 
his  stout  journeymen.  A  fine  set  of  people  I  call 
them." 


Of  Dame  Martha's  conversation  with  Rose  about  the  three 
journeymen.    Conrad's  quarrel  with  Master  Martin. 

Generally  it  is  the  morning  following  a  holiday 
when  young  girls  are  wont  to  enjoy  all  the  pleasure 
of  it,  and  taste  it,  and  thoroughly  digest  it  ;  and  this 
after  celebration  they  seem  to  like  far  better  than  the 
actual  holiday  itself.  And  so  next  morning  pretty 
Rose  sat  alone  in  her  room  with  her  hands  folded  on 
her  lap,  and  her  head  bent  slightly  forward  in  medita- 
tion— her  spindle  and  embroidery  meanwhile  resting. 
Probably  she  was  now  listening  to  Reinhold's  and 
Frederick's  songs,  and  now  watching  Conrad  cleverly 
gaining  the  victory  over  his  competitors,  and  now  she 
saw  him  coming  to  her  for  the  prize  of  victory ;  and 
then  she  hummed  a  few  lines  of  a  pretty  song,  and 


120 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


then  she  whispered,  "  Do  you  want  my  flowers  ? " 
whereat  a  deeper  crimson  suffused  her  cheeks,  and 
brighter  glances  made  their  way  through  her  downcast 
eyelashes,  and  soft  sighs  stole  forth  from  her  inmost 
heart.  Then  Dame  Martha  came  in,  and  Rose  was 
delighted  to  be  able  to  tell  at  full  length  all  that  had 
taken  place  in  St.  Catherine's  Church  and  on  the 
Allerwiese.  When  Rose  had  done  speaking,  Dame 
Martha  said,  smiling,  "  Oh  !  so  now,  dear  Rose,  you 
will  soon  have  to  make  your  choice  between  your  three 
handsome  lovers."  "  For  God's  sake,"  burst  out  Rose, 
quite  frightened,  and  flushing  hotly  all  over  her  face, 
"for  mercy's  sake,  Dame  Martha,  what  do  you  mean 
by  that  ?  I — three  lovers  !  "  "  Don't  take  on  so," 
went  on  Dame  Martha,  "  don't  take  on  in  that  way, 
dear  Rose,  as  if  you  knew  nothing,  as  if  you  could 
guess  nothing.  Why,  where  do  you  put  your  eyes, 
girl  ?  you  must  be  quite  blind  not  to  see  that  our 
journeymen,  Reinhold,  Frederick,  and  Conrad — yes,  all 
three  of  them — are  madly  in  love  with  you."  "What 
a  fancy,  to  be  sure,  Dame  Martha,"  whispered  Rose^ 
holding  her  hands  before  her  face.  Then  Dame  Martha 
knelt  down  before  her,  and  threw  her  arm  about  her, 
saying,  "Come,  my  pretty,  bashful  child,  take  your 
hands  away,  and  look  me  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  then 
tell  me  you  have  not  long  ago  perceived  that  you  fill 
both  the  heart  and  the  mind  of  each  of  our  journey- 
men, deny  that  if  you  can.  Nay,  I  tell  you,  you  can't 
do  it ;  and  it  would,  i'  faith,  be  a  truly  wonderful  thing 
if  a  maiden's  eyes  did  not  see  a  thing  of  that  sort. 
Why,  when  you  go  into  the  shop,  their  eyes  are  off 
their  work  and  flying  across  to  you  in  a  minute,  and 
they  bustle  and  stir  about  with  new  life.  And  Rein- 
hold  and  Frederick  begin  their  best  songs,  and  even 
wild  Conrad  grows  quiet  and  gentle  ;  each  tries  to  in- 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


121 


vent  some  excuse  to  approach  nearer  to  you,  and  when 
you  honour  one  of  them  with  a  sweet  look  or  a  kindly 
word,  how  his  eyes  sparkle,  and  his  face  flushes  !  Come 
now,  my  pet,  is  it  not  nice  to  have  such  handsome  fel- 
lows all  making  love  to  you  ?  But  whether  you  will 
choose  one  of  the  three  or  which  it  will  be,  that  I  can- 
not indeed  say,  for  you  are  good  and  kind  to  them  all 
alike,  and  yet — and  yet — but  I  must  not  say  more. 
Now  an  you  come  to  me  and  said,  1  O  Dame  Martha, 
give  me  your  advice,  to  which  of  these  young  men,  who 
are  all  wanting  me,  shall  I  give  my  hand  and  heart  ? ' 
then  I  should  of  course  answer,  '  If  your  heart  does  not 
speak  out  loudly  and  distinctly,  It's  this  or  it's  that, 
why,  let  them  all  three  go.'  I  must  say  Reinhold 
pleases  me  right  well,  and  so  does  Frederick,  and  so 
does  Conrad  ;  and  then  again  on  the  other  hand  I  have 
something  to  say  against  each  of  them.  In  fact,  dear 
Rose,  when  I  see  them  working  away  so  bravely,  I  al- 
ways think  of  my  poor  Valentine  ;  and  I  must  say  that, 
if  )ie  could  not  perhaps  produce  any  better  work,  there 
was  yet  quite  a  different  kind  of  swing  and  style  in  all 
that  he  did  do.  You  could  see  all  his  heart  was  in  his 
work  ;  but  with  these  young  fellows  it  always  seems  to 
me  as  if  they  only  worked  so,  so — as  if  they  had  in  their 
heads  different  things  altogether  from  their  work  ;  nay, 
it  almost  strikes  me  as  if  it  were  a  burden  which  they 
have  voluntarily  taken  up,  and  were  now  bearing  with 
sturdy  courage.  Of  them  all  I  can  get  on  best  with 
Frederick  ;  he's  such  a  faithful,  affectionate  fellow. 
He  is  the  one  who  seems  to  belong  to  us  most ;  I  un- 
derstand all  that  lie  says.  And  then  his  love  for  you  is 
so  still,  and  as  shy  as  a  good  child's  ;  he  hardly  dares 
to  look  at  you,  and  blushes  if  you  only  say  a  single 
word  to  him  ;  and  that's  what  I  like  so  much  in  the 
dear  lad."    A  tear  seemed  to  glisten  in  Rose's  eye  as 


122 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


Dame  Martha  said  this.  She  stood  up,  and  turning 
to  the  window,  said,  "  I  like  Frederick  very  much,  but 
you  must  not  pass  over  Reinhold  contemptuously." 
"  I  never  dreamt  of  doing  so,"  replied  Dame  Martha, 
"for  Reinhold  is  by  a  long  way  the  handsomest  of  all. 
And  what  eyes  he  has  !  And  when  he  looks  you  through 
and  through  with  his  bright  glances — no,  it's  more  than 
you  can  endure.  And  yet  there's  something  so  strange 
and  peculiar  in  his  character,  it  quite  makes  me  shiver 
at  times,  and  makes  me  quite  afraid  of  him.  When 
Rein  hold  is  working  in  the  shop,  I  should  think  Herr 
Martin,  when  he  tells  him  to  do  this  or  do  that,  must 
always  feel  as  I  should  if  anybody  were  to  put  a  bright 
pan  in  my  kitchen  all  glittering  with  gold  and  precious 
stones,  and  should  bid  me  use  it  like  any  ordinary 
common  pan — why,  I  should  hardly  dare  to  touch  it  at 
all.  He  tells  his  stories  and  talks  and  talks,  and  it  all 
sounds  like  sweet  music,  and  you  are  quite  carried 
away  by  it,  but  when  I  sit  down  to  think  seriously 
about  what  he  has  been  saying,  I  find  I  haven't  under- 
stood a  single  word.  And  then  when  he  now  and  again 
jests  in  the  way  wre  do,  and  I  think  now  he's  just  like 
us,  then  all  at  once  he  looks  so  distinguished  that  I  get 
really  afraid  of  him.  And  yet  I  can't  say  that  he  puffs 
himself  up  in  the  way  that  many  of  our  Junkers  or 
patricians  do  ;  no,  it's  something  else  altogether  differ- 
ent. In  a  word,  it  strikes  me,  by  my  troth,  as  if  he 
held  intercourse  with  higher  spirits,  as  if  he  belonged, 
in  fact,  to  another  world.  Conrad  is  a  wild  overbearing 
fellow,  and  yet  there  is  something  confoundedly  dis- 
tinguished about  him  as  well ;  it  doesn't  agree  with  the 
cooper's  apron  somehow.  And  he  always  acts  as  if  no- 
body but  he  had  to  give  orders,  and  as  if  the  others 
must  obey  him.  In  the  short  time  that  he  has  been 
here  he  has  got  so  far  that  when  he  bellows  at  Master 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


123 


Martin  in  his  loud  ringing  voice,  his  master  generally 
does  what  he  wishes.  But  at  the  same  time  he  is  so 
good-natured  and  so  thoroughly  honest  that  you  can't 
bear  ill-will  against  him  ;  rather,  I  must  say,  that  in 
spite  of  his  wildness,  I  almost  like  him  better  than  I  do 
Reinhold,  for  even  if  he  does  speak  fearfully  grand, 
you  can  yet  understand  him  very  well.  I  wager  he  has 
once  been  a  campaigner,  he  may  say  what  he  likes. 
That's  why  he  knowTs  so  much  about  arms,  and  has 
even  got  something  of  knights'  ways  about  him,  which 
doesn't  suit  him  at  all  badly.  Now  do  tell  me,  Rose 
dear,  without  any  ifs  and  ands,  which  of  the  three 
journeymen  you  like  best  ? "  "  Don't  ask  me  such 
searching  questions,  dear  Dame  Martha,"  answered 
Rose.  "  But  of  this  I  am  quite  sure,  that  Reinhold 
does  not  stir  up  in  me  the  same  feelings  that  he  does 
in  you.  It's  perfectly  true,  too,  that  he  is  altogether 
different  from  his  equals  ;  and  when  he  talks  I  could 
fancy  I  enter  into  a  beautiful  garden  full  of  bright 
and  magnificent  flowers  and  blossoms  and  fruits,  such 
as  are  not  to  be  found  on  earth,  and  I  like  to  be 
amongst  them.  Since  Reinhold  has  been  here  I  see 
many  things  in  a  different  light,  and  lots  of  things 
that  were  once  dim  and  formless  in  my  mind  are  now 
so  bright  and  clear  that  I  can  easily  distinguish  them." 
Dame  Martha  rose  to  her  feet,  and  shaking  her  finger 
at  Rose  as  she  went  out  of  the  room,  said,  "  Ah  !  ah ! 
Rose,  so  Reinhold  is  the  favourite  then  ?  I  didn't 
think  it,  I  didn't  even  dream  it."  Rose  made  answer 
as  she  accompanied  her  as  far  as  the  door,  "  Pray,  dear 
Dame  Martha,  think  nothing,  dream  nothing,  but 
leave  all  to  the  future.  What  it  brings  is  the  will  of 
God,  and  to  that  everybody  must  bow  humbly  and 
gratefully." 

Meanwhile  it  was  becoming   extremely  lively  in 


124 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


Master  Martin's  workshop.  In  order  to  execute  all 
his  orders  he  had  engaged  with  ordinary  labourers 
and  taken  in  some  apprentices,  and  they  all  hammered 
and  knocked  till  the  din  could  be  heard  far  and  wide. 
Reinhold  had  finished  his  calculations  and  measure- 
ments for  the  great  cask  that  was  to  be  built  for  the 
Bishop  of  Bamberg,  whilst  Frederick  and  Conrad  had 
set  it  up  so  cleverly  that  Master  Martin's  heart  laughed 
in  his  body,  and  he  cried  again  and  again,  "Now  that 
I  call  a  grand  piece  of  work  ;  that'll  be  the  best  little 
cask  I've  ever  made — except  my  masterpiece."  Now 
the  three  apprentices  stood  driving  the  hoops  on  to 
the  fitted  staves,  and  the  whole  place  rang  again  with 
the  din  of  their  mallets.  Old  Valentine  was  busy 
plying  his  draw-knife,  and  Dame  Martha,  her  two 
youngest  on  her  knee,  sat  just  behind  Conrad,  whilst 
the  other  wideawake  little  rascals  were  shouting  and 
making  a  noise,  tumbling  the  hoops  about,  and  chasing 
each  other.  In  fact,  there  was  so  much  hubbub  and 
so  much  vigorous  hard  work  going  on  that  hardly 
anybody  noticed  old  Herr  Johannes  Holzschuer  as  he 
stepped  into  the  shop.  Master  Martin  went  to  meet 
him,  and  politely  inquired  what  he  desired.  "  Why, 
in  the  first  place,"  said  Holzschuer,  "  I  want  to  have 
a  look  at  my  dear  Frederick  again,  who  is  working 
away  so  lustily  yonder.  And  then,  goodman  Master 
Martin,  I  want  a  stout  cask  for  my  wine-cellar,  which 
I  will  ask  you  to  make  for  me.  Why  look  you,  that 
cask  they  are  now  setting  up  there  is  exactly  the  sort 
of  thing  I  want  ;  you  can  let  me  have  that,  you've 
only  got  to  name  the  price."  Reinhold,  who  had 
grown  tired  and  had  been  resting  a  few  minutes  down 
in  the  shop,  and  was  now  preparing  to  ascend  the 
scaffolding  again,  heard  Holzschuer's  words  and  said, 
turning  his  head  towards  the  old  gentleman,  "  Marry, 


MASTER  MARTIN, 


125 


my  friend  Herr  Holzschuer,  you  need  not  set  your  heart 
upon  this  cask  ;  we  are  making  it  for  his  Lordship  the 
Bishop  of  Bamberg."  Master  Martin,  his  arms  folded 
on  his  back,  his  left  foot  planted  forward,  his  head 
thrown  back  in  his  neck,  blinked  at  the  cask  and  said 
proudly,  "My  dear  master,  you  might  have  seen  from 
the  carefully  selected  wood  and  the  great  pains  taken 
in  the  work  that  a  masterpiece  like  that  was  meant 
for  a  prince's  1  cellar.  My  journeyman  Reinhold  has 
said  the  truth  ;  don't  set  your  heart  on  a  piece  of  work 
like  that.  But  when  the  vintage  is  over  I  will  get  you 
a  plain  strong  little  cask  made,  such  as  will  be  suitable 
for  your  cellar."  Old  Holzschuer,  incensed  at  Master 
Martin's  pride,  replied  that  his  gold  pieces  weighed 
just  as  much  as  the  Bishop  of  Bamberg's,  and  that  he 
hoped  he  could  get  good  work  elsewhere  for  ready 
money.  Master  Martin,  although  fuming  with  rage, 
controlled  himself  with  difficulty  ;  he  would  not  by 
any  means  like  to  offend  old  Herr  Holzschuer,  who 
stood  so  high  in  the  esteem  both  of  the  Council  and 
of  all  the  burghers.  At  this  moment  Conrad  struck 
mightier  blows  than  ever  with  his  mallet,  so  that  the 
whole  shop  rang  and  cracked  ;  then  Master  Martin's 
internal  rage  boiled  over,  and  he  shouted  vehemently, 
"Conrad,  you  blockhead,  what  do  you  mean  by 
striking  so  blindly  and  heedlessly  ?  do  you  mean  to 
break  my  cask  in  pieces  ? "  "  Ho  !  ho  ! "  replied 
Conrad,  looking  round  defiantly  at  his  master,  "  Ho  ! 
ho  !  my  comical  little  master,  and  why  should  I  not  ?" 
And  therewith  he  dealt  such  a  terrible  blow  at  the 


1  The  word  "prince"  is  expressed  in  German  by  two  distinct  words  ; 
one,  like  the  English  word,  designates  a  member  of  a  royal  or  reigning 
house  ;  the  other  is  used  as  a  simple  title,  often  official,  ranking  above 
duke.  The  Bishop  of  Bamberg  was  in  this  latter  sense  a  prince  of  the 
empire. 


126 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


cask  that  the  strongest  hoop  sprang,  rattling,  and 
knocked  Reinhold  down  from  the  narrow  plank  on 
the  scaffolding  ;  and  it  was  further  evident  from  the 
hollow  echo  that  a  stave  had  been  broken  as  wrell. 
Completely  mastered  by  his  furious  anger,  Master 
Martin  snatched  out  of  Valentine's  hand  the  bar  he 
was  shaving,  and  striding  towards  the  cask,  dealt  Con- 
rad a  good  sound  stroke  with  it  on  the  back,  shouting, 
"You  cursed  dog!"  As  soon  as  Conrad  felt  the  blow 
he  wheeled  sharply  round,  and  after  standing  for  a 
moment  as  if  bereft  of  his  senses,  his  eyes  blazed  up 
with  fury,  he  ground  his  teeth,  and  screamed,  "  Struck  ! 
struck  !  "  Then  at  one  bound  he  was  down  from  the 
scaffolding,  had  snatched  up  an  adze  that  lay  on  the 
floor,  and  aimed  a  powerful  stroke  at  his  master  ;  had 
not  Frederick  pulled  Martin  on  one  side  the  blow 
would  have  split  his  head  ;  as  it  was,  the  adze  only 
grazed  his  arm,  from  which,  however,  the  blood  at 
once  began  to  spurt  out.  Martin,  fat  and  helpless  as 
he  was,  lost  his  equilibrium  and  fell  over  the  bench,  at 
which  one  of  the  apprentices  was  working,  into  the 
floor.  They  all  threw  themselves  upon  Conrad,  who 
was  frantic,  flourishing  his  bloody  adze  in  the  air,  and 
shouting  and  screaming  in  a  terrible  voice,  "  Let  him 
go  to  hell  !  To  hell  with  him  !  "  Hurling  them  all 
off  with  the  strength  of  a  giant,  he  was  preparing  to 
deal  a  second  blow  at  his  poor  master,  who  was  gasp- 
ing for  breath  and  groaning  on  the  floor, — a  blowT  that 
would  have  completely  done  for  him — when  Rose,  pale 
as  a  corpse  with  fright,  appeared  in  the  shop-door. 
As  soon  as  Conrad  observed  her  he  stood  as  if  turned 
to  a  pillar  of  stone,  the  adze  suspended  in  the  air. 
Then  he  threw  the  tool  away  from  him,  struck  his 
hands  together  upon  his  chest,  and  cried  in  a  voice 
that  went  to  everybody's  heart,  "  Oh,  good  God !  good 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


127 


God  !  what  have  I  done  ? "  and  away  he  rushed  out  of 
the  shop.    No  one  thought  of  following  him. 

Now  poor  Master  Martin  was  after  some  difficulty 
lifted  up  ;  it  was  found,  however,  that  the  adze  had 
only  penetrated  into  the  thick  fleshy  part  of  the  arm, 
and  the  wound  could  not  therefore  be  called  serious. 
Old  Herr  Holzschuer,  whom  Martin  had  involved  with 
him  in  his  fall,  was  pulled  out  from  beneath  the  shav- 
ings, and  Dame  Martha's  children,  who  ceased  not  to 
scream  and  cry  over  good  Father  Martin,  were  appeased 
as  far  as  that  could  be  done.  As  for  Martin  himself, 
he  was  quite  dazed,  and  said  if  only  that  devil  of  a  bad 
journeyman  had  not  spoilt  his  fine  cask  he  should  not 
make  much  account  of  the  wound. 

Sedan  chairs  were  brought  for  the  old  gentlemen,  for 
Holzschuer  also  had  bruised  himself  rather  in  his  fall. 
He  hurled  reproaches  at  a  trade  in  which  they  employed 
such  murderous  tools,  and  conjured  Frederick  to  come 
back  to  his  beautiful  art  of  casting  and  working  in  the 
precious  metals,  and  the  sooner  the  better. 

As  soon  as  the  dusk  of  evening  began  to  creep  up 
over  the  sky,  Frederick,  and  along  with  him  Reinhold, 
whom  the  hoop  had  struck  rather  sharply,  and  who 
felt  as  if  every  limb  was  benumbed,  strode  back  into 
the  town  in  very  low  spirits.  Then  they  heard  a  soft 
sighing  and  groaning  behind  a  hedge.  They  stood 
still,  and  a  tall  figure  at  once  rose  up  ;  they  immediately 
recognised  Conrad,  and  began  to  withdraw  timidly. 
But  he  addressed  them  in  a  tearful  voice,  saying,  "You 
need  not  be  so  frightened  at  me,  my  good  comrades ; 
of  course  you  take  me  for  a  devilish  murderous  brute, 
but  I  am  not — indeed  I  am  not  so.  I  could  not  do 
otherwise  ;  I  ought  to  have  struck  down  the  fat  old 
master,  and  by  rights  I  ought  to  go  along  with  you 
and  do  it  no7c>,  if  I  only  could.     But  no,  no  ;  it's  all 


128 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


over.  Remember  me  to  pretty  Rose,  whom  I  love  so 
above  all  reason.  Tell  her  I  will  bear  her  flowers  on 
my  heart  all  my  life  long,  I  will  adorn  myself  with 
them  w7hen  I — but  she  will  perhaps  hear  of  me  again 
some  day.  Farewrell !  farewell !  my  good,  brave  com- 
rades." And  Conrad  ran  away  across  the  field  with- 
out once  stopping. 

Reinhold  said,  "  There  is  something  peculiar  about 
this  young  fellow  ;  we  can't  weigh  or  measure  this 
deed  by  any  ordinary  standard.  Perhaps  the  future 
will  unfold  to  us  the  secret  that  has  lain  heavy  upon 
his  breast." 

ReinJwld  leaves  Master  Martin's  house. 

If  formerly  there  had  been  merry  days  in  Master 
Martin's  workshop,  so  now  they  were  proportionately 
dull.  Reinhold,  incapable  of  work,  remained  confined 
to  his  room  ;  Martin,  his  wounded  arm  in  a  sling,  was 
incessantly  abusing  the  good-for-nothing  stranger- 
apprentice,  and  railing  at  him  for  the  mischief  he  had 
wrought.  Rose,  and  even  Dame  Martha  and  her 
children,  avoided  the  scene  of  the  rash  savage  deed,  and 
so  Frederick's  blowTs  fell  dull  and  melancholy  enough, 
like  a  woodcutter's  in  a  lonely  wood  in  winter  time, 
for  to  Frederick  it  was  now  left  to  finish  the  big  cask 
alone,  and  a  hard  task  it  was. 

And  soon  his  mind  and  heart  wrere  possessed  by  a 
profound  sadness,  for  he  believed  he  had  now  clear 
proofs  of  what  he  had  for  a  long  time  feared.  He  no 
longer  had  any  doubt  that  Rose  loved  Reinhold.  Not 
only  had  she  formerly  shown  many  a  kindness  to 
Reinhold  alone,  and  to  him  alone  given  many  a  sweet 
wTord,  but  now — it  was  as  plain  as  noonday — since 
Reinhold  could  no  longer  come  to  work,  Rose  too  no 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


129 


longer  thought  of  going  out,  but  preferred  to  stay 
indoors,  no  doubt  to  wait  upon  and  take  good  care  of 
her  lover.  On  Sundays,  when  all  the  rest  set  out 
gaily,  and  Master  Martin,  who  had  recovered  to  some 
extent  of  his  wound,  invited  him  to  walk  with  him 
and  Rose  to  the  Allerwiese,  he  refused  the  invitation  ; 
but,  burdened  with  trouble  and  the  bitter  pain  of 
disappointed  love,  he  hastened  off  alone  to  the  village 
and  the  hill  where  he  had  first  met  with  Reinhold.  He 
threw  himself  down  in  the  tall  grass  where  the  flowers 
grew,  and  as  he  thought  how  that  the  beautiful  star  of 
hope  which  had  shone  before  him  all  along  his  home- 
ward path  had  now  suddenly  set  in  the  blackness  of 
night  after  he  had  reached  his  goal,  and  as  he  thought 
how  that  this  step  which  he  had  taken  was  like  the 
vain  efforts  of  a  dreamer  stretching  out  his  yearning 
arms  after  an  empty  vision  of  air, — the  tears  fell  from 
his  eyes  and  dropped  upon  the  flowers,  which  bent 
their  little  heads  as  if  sorrowing  for  the  young  journey- 
man's great  unhappiness.  Without  his  being  exactly 
conscious  of  it,  the  painful  sighs  which  escaped  his 
labouring  breast  assumed  the  form  of  words,  of  musical 
notes,  and  he  sang  this  song  : — 

My  star  of  hope, 
Where  hast  thou  gone  ? 
Alas  !  thy  glory  rises  up — 
Thy  glory  sweet,  far  from  me  now — 
And  pours  its  light  on  others  down. 
Ye  rustling  evening  breezes,  rouse  you, 
Blow  on  my  breast, 
Awake  all  joy  that  kills, 
Awake  all  pain  that  brings  to  death, 
So  that  my  sore  and  bleeding  heart, 
Steeped  to  the  core  in  bitter  tears, 
May  break  in  yearning  comfortless. 
Why  whisper  ye,  ye  darksome  trees  ? 
Vol.  IL— 9 


3o 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


So  softly  and  like  friends  together? 
And  why,  O  golden  skirts  of  sky, 
Look  ye  so  kindly  down  on  me? 
Show  me  my  grave  ; 
For  that  is  now  my  haven  of  hope, 
Where  I  shall  calmly,  softly  sleep. 

And  as  it  often  happens  that  the  very  greatest 
trouble,  if  only  it  can  find  vent  in  tears  and  words, 
softens  down  into  a  gentle  melancholy,  mild  and  pain- 
less, and  that  often  a  faint  glimmer  of  hope  appears 
then  in  the  soul,  so  it  was  with  Frederick  ;  when  he 
had  sung  this  song  he  felt  wonderfully  strengthened 
and  comforted.  The  evening  breezes  and  the  darksome 
trees  that  he  had  called  upon  in  his  song  rustled  and 
whispered  words  of  consolation  ;  and  like  the  sweet 
dreams  of  distant  glory  or  of  distant  happiness,  golden 
streaks  of  light  worked  their  way  up  across  the  dusky 
sky.  Frederick  rose  to  his  feet,  and  went  down  the 
hill  into  the  village.  He  almost  fancied  that  Reinhold 
was  walking  beside  him  as  he  did  on  the  day  they  first 
found  each  other  ;  and  all  the  words  which  Reinhold 
had  spoken  again  recurred  to  his  mind.  "And  as  his 
thoughts  dwelt  upon  Reinhold's  story  about  the  con- 
test between  the  two  painters  who  were  friends,  then 
the  scales  fell  from  his  eyes.  There  was  no  doubt  about 
it ;  Reinhold  must  have  seen  Rose  before  and  loved 
her.  It  was  only  his  love  for  her  which  had  brought 
him  to  Nuremberg  to  Master  Martin's,  and  by  the  con- 
test between  the  two  painters  he  meant  simply  and 
solely  their  own — Reinhold's  and  Frederick's — rival 
wooing  of  beautiful  Rose.  The  words  that  Reinhold 
had  then  spoken  rang  again  in  his  ears, — "  Honest 
contention  for  the  same  prize,  without  any  malicious 
reserve,  ought  to  unite  true  friends  and  knit  their 
hearts  still  closer  together,  instead  of  setting  them  at 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


variance.  There  should  never  be  any  place  in  noble 
minds  for  petty  envy  or  malicious  hatred."  "Yes," 
exclaimed  Frederick  aloud,  "yes,  friend  of  my  heart, 
I  will  appeal  to  you  without  any  reserve,  you  yourself 
shall  tell  me  if  all  hope  for  me  is  lost." 

It  was  approaching  noon  when  Frederick  tapped  at 
Reinhold's  door.  As  all  remained  still  within,  he 
pushed  open  the  door,  which  was  not  locked  as  usual, 
and  went  in.  But  the  moment  he  did  so  he  stood  rooted 
to  the  spot.  Upon  an  easel,  the  glorious  rays  of  the 
morning  sun  falling  upon  it,  was  a  splendid  picture, — 
Rose  in  all  the  pride  of  her  beauty  and  charms,  and 
life  size.  The  maul-stick  lying  on  the  table,  and  the 
wet  colours  of  the  palette,  showed  that  some  one  had 
been  at  work  on  the  picture  quite  recently.  "  O  Rose, 
Rose  ! — By  Heaven  !  "  sighed  Frederick.  Reinhold, 
who  had  entered  behind  him  unperceived,  clapped  him 
on  the  shoulder  and  asked,  smiling,  "Well,  now,  Fred- 
erick, what  do  you  say  to  my  picture  !  "  Then  Fred- 
erick pressed  him  to  his  heart  and  cried,  "  Oh  you 
splendid  fellow — you  are  indeed  a  noble  artist.  Yes, 
it's  all  clear  to  me  now.  You  have  won  the  prize — for 
which  I — poor  me  ! — had  the  hardihood  to  struggle. 
Oh  !  what  am  I  in  comparison  with  you  ?  And  what  is 
my  art  against  yours  ?  And  yet  I  too  had  some  fine 
ideas  in  my  head.  Don't  laugh  at  me,  dear  Reinhold  ; 
but,  look  you,  I  thought  what  a  grand  thing  it  would 
be  to  model  Rose's  lovely  figure  and  cast  it  in  the  finest 
silver.  But  that's  all  childishness,  whilst  you — you — 
Oh  !  how  sweetly  she  smiles  upon  you,  and  how  de- 
lightfully you  have  brought  out  all  her  beauty.  O 
Reinhold  !  Reinhold  !  you  happy,  happy  fellow  !  Ay, 
and  it  has  all  come  about  as  you  said  long  ago.  We 
have  both  striven  for  the  prize  and  you  have  won  it  : 
you  could  not  help  but  win  it,  and  I  shall  still  continue 


132 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


to  be  your  friend  with  all  my  heart.  But  I  must  leave 
this  house — my  home  :  I  cannot  bear  it,  I  should  die  if 
I  were  to  see  Rose  again.  Please  forgive  me,  my  dear, 
dear,  noble  friend.  To-day,  this  very  moment,  I  will 
go — go  away  into  the  wide  world,  where  my  trouble, 
my  unbearable  misery,  is  sending  me."  And  thus 
speaking,  Frederick  was  hastening  out  of  the  apart- 
ment, but  Reinhold  held  him  fast,  saying  gently,  "  You 
shall  not  go  ;  for  things  may  turn  out  quite  different 
from  what  you  think.  It  is  now  time  for  me  to  tell  you 
all  that  I  have  hitherto  kept  silence  about.  That  I  am 
not  a  cooper  but  a  painter  you  are  now  well  aware,  and 
I  hope  a  glance  at  this  picture  will  convince  you  that  I 
am  not  to  be  ranked  amongst  the  inferior  artists. 
Whilst  still  young  I  went  to  Italy,  the  land  of  art ;  there 
I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  accepted  as  a  pupil  by 
renowned  masters,  who  fostered  into  living  fire  the 
spark  which  glowed  within  me.  Thus  it  came  to  pass 
that  I  rapidly  rose  into  fame,  that  my  pictures  became 
celebrated  throughout  all  Italy,  and  the  powerful  Duke 
of  Florence  1  summoned  me  to  his  court.  At  that  time 
I  would  not  hear  a  word  about  German  art,  and  with- 
out having  seen  any  of  your  pictures,  I  talked  a  good 
deal  of  nonsense  about  the  coldness,  the  bad  drawing, 
and  the  hardness  of  your  Dürer  and  your  Cranach.3 

1  At  this  time  Francesco  I.  (of  the  illustrious  house  of  Medici)  was 
Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  his  father  Cosimo  I.  having  exchanged  the 
title  of  Duke  of  Florence  for  that  of  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  in  1569. 
Francesco  did  much  for  the  encouragement  of  art  and  science.  He 
founded  the  well-known  Uffizi  Gallery,  and  it  was  in  his  reign  that  the 
Accademia  Delia  Crusca  was  instituted. 

2  Lucas  Cranach  occupies  along  with  his  contemporary  Albrecht 
Dürer  the  first  place  in  the  ranks  of  German  painters.  Born  in  Upper 
Franconia  in  1472  (died  1553),  he  secured  the  favour  of  the  Elector  of 
Saxony,  and  manifested  extraordinary  activity  in  several  branches  of 
painting. 


MASTER  MARIIN. 


133 


But  one  day  a  picture-dealer  brought  a  small  picture 
of  the  Madonna  by  old  Albrecht  to  the  Duke's  gallery, 
and  it  made  a  powerful  and  wonderful  impression  upon 
me,  so  that  I  turned  away  completely  from  the  volup- 
tuousness of  Italian  art,  and  from  that  very  hour  deter- 
mined to  go  back  to  my  native  Germany  and  study 
there  the  masterpieces  upon  which  my  heart  was  now 
set.  I  came  to  Nuremberg  here,  and  when  I  beheld 
Rose  I  seemed  to  see  the  Madonna  who  had  so  won- 
derfully stirred  my  heart,  walking  in  bodily  form  on 
earth.  I  had  the  same  experiences  as  you,  dear  Fred- 
erick ;  the  bright  flames  of  love  flashed  up  and  con- 
sumed me,  mind  and  heart  and  soul.  I  saw  nothing,  I 
thought  of  nothing,  but  Rose  ;  all  else  had  vanished 
from  my  mind  ;  and  even  art  itself  only  retained  its 
hold  upon  me  in  so  far  as  it  enabled  me  to  draw  and 
paint  Rose  again  and  again — hundreds  of  times.  I 
would  have  approached  the  maiden  in  the  free  Italian 
way  ;  but  all  my  attempts  proved  fruitless.  There  was 
no  means  of  securing  a  footing  of  intimacy  in  Master 
Martin's  house  in  any  insidious  way.  At  last  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  sue  for  Rose  directly,  when  I  learned 
that  Master  Martin  had  determined  to  give  his  daughter 
only  to  a  good  master-cooper.  Straightway  I  formed 
the  adventurous  resolve  to  go  and  learn  the  trade  of 
cooperage  in  Strasburg,  and  then  to  come  and  work  in 
Master  Martin's  work -shop.  I  left  all  the  rest  to  the 
ordering  of  Providence.  You  know  in  what  way  I  car- 
ried out  my  resolve  ;  but  I  must  now  also  tell  you  what 
Master  Martin  said  to  me  some  days  ago.  He  said  I 
should  make  a  skilful  cooper  and  should  be  a  right 
dear  and  worthy  son-in-law,  for  he  saw  plainly  that  I 
was  seeking  to  gain  Rose's  favour,  and  that  she  liked 
me  right  well."  "  Can  it  then  indeed  well  be  other- 
wise ?  "  cried  Frederick,  painfully  agitated.    "Yes,  yes, 


134 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


Rose  will  be  yours  ;  how  came  I,  unhappy  wretch  that 
I  am,  ever  to  hope  for  such  happiness  ? "  "  You  are 
forgetting,  my  brother,"  Reinhold  went  on  to  say  ; 
"  you  are  forgetting  that  Rose  herself  has  not  confirmed 
this,  which  our  cunning  Master  Martin  no  doubt  is 
well  aware  of.  True  it  is  that  Rose  has  always  shown 
herself  kind  and  charming  towards  me,  but  a  loving 
heart  betrays  itself  in  other  ways.  Promise  me,  brother, 
to  remain  quiet  for  three  days  longer,  and  to  go  to 
your  work  in  the  shop  as  usual.  I  also  could  now  go 
to  work  again,  but  since  I  have  been  busy  with,  and 
wrapt  up  in  this  picture,  I  feel  an  indescribable  disgust 
at  that  coarse  rough  work  out  yonder.  And,  what  is 
more,  I  can  never  lay  hand  upon  mallet  again,  let  come 
what  will.  On  the  third  day  I  will  frankly  tell  you  how 
matters  stand  between  me  and  Rose.  If  I  should  really 
be  the  lucky  one  to  whom  she  has  given  her  love,  then 
you  may  go  your  way  and  make  trial  of  the  experience 
that  time  can  cure  the  deepest  wounds."  Frederick 
promised  to  await  his  fate. 

On  the  third  day  Frederick's  heart  beat  with  fear  and 
anxious  expectation  ;  he  had  in  the  meantime  carefully 
avoided  meeting  Rose.  Like  one  in  a  dream  he  crept 
about  the  workshop,  and  his  awkwardness  gave  Master 
Martin,  no  doubt,  just  cause  for  his  grumbling  and 
scolding,  which  was  not  by  any  means  customary  with 
him.  Moreover,  the  master  seemed  to  have  encoun- 
tered something  that  completely  spoilt  all  his  good 
spirits.  He  talked  a  great  deal  about  base  tricks  and 
ingratitude,  without  clearly  expressing  what  he  meant 
by  it.  When  at  length  evening  came,  and  Frederick 
was  returning  towards  the  town,  he  saw  not  far  from 
the  gate  a  horseman  coming  to  meet  him,  whom  he 
recognised  to  be  Reinhold.  As  soon  as  the  latter  caught 
sight  of  Frederick  he  cried,  "  Ha  !  ha  !  I  meet  you  just 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


135 


as  I  wanted."  And  leaping  from  his  horse,  he  slung 
the  rein  over  his  arm,  and  grasped  his  friend's  hand. 
"  Let  us  walk  along  a  space  beside  each  other,"  he  said. 
"  Now  I  can  tell  you  what  luck  I  have  had  with  my 
suit."  Frederick  observed  that  Reinhold  wore  the 
same  clothes  which  he  had  worn  when  they  first  met 
each  other,  and  that  the  horse  bore  a  portmanteau. 
Reinhold  looked  pale  and  troubled.  "  Good  luck  to 
you,  brother,"  he  began  somewhat  wildly  ;  "good  luck 
to  you.  You  can  now  go  and  hammer  away  lustily  at 
your  casks  ;  I  will  yield  the  field  to  you.  I  have  just 
said  adieu  to  pretty  Rose  and  worthy  Master  Martin." 
"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Frederick,  whilst  an  electric  thrill, 
as  it  were,  shot  through  all  his  limbs — "  what !  you 
are  going  away  now  that  Master  Martin  is  willing  to 
take  you  for  his  son-in-law,  and  Rose  loves  you  ? " 
Reinhold  replied,  "  That  was  only  a  delusion,  brother, 
which  your  jealousy  has  led  you  into.  It  has  now  come 
out  that  Rose  would  have  had  me  simply  to  show  her 
dutifulness  and  obedience,  but  there's  not  a  spark  of 
love  glowing  in  her  ice-cold  heart.  Ha  !  ha  !  I  should 
have  made  a  fine  cooper — that  I  should.  Week-days 
scraping  hoops  and  planing  staves,  Sundays  walking  be- 
side my  honest  wife  to  St.  Catherine's  or  St.  Sebald's,  and 

in  the  evening  to  the  Allerwiese,  year  after  year  "  

"  Nay,  mock  not,"  said  Frederick,  interrupting  Rein- 
hold's  loud  laughter,  "mock  not  at  the  excellent  burgh- 
er's simple,  harmless  life.  If  Rose  does  not  really  love 
you,  it  is  not  her  fault  ;  you  are  so  passionate,  so 
wild."  "  You  are  right,"  said  Reinhold  ;  "  It  is  only 
the  silly  way  I  have  of  making  as  much  noise  as  a  spoilt 
child  wThen  I  conceive  I  have  been  hurt.  You  can 
easily  imagine  that  I  spoke  to  Rose  of  my  love  and  of 
her  father's  good-will.  Then  the  tears  started  from  her 
eyes,  and  her  hand  trembled  in  mine.    Turning  her 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


face  away,  she  whispered,  '  I  must  submit  to  my  father's 
will ' — that  was  enough  for  me.  My  peculiar  resent- 
ment, dear  Frederick,  will  now  let  you  see  into  the 
depths  of  my  heart ;  I  must  tell  you  that  my  striving 
to  win  Rose  was  a  deception,  imposed  upon  me  by  my 
wandering  mind.  After  I  had  finished  Rose's  picture 
my  heart  grew  calm  ;  and  often,  strange  enough,  I  fan- 
cied that  Rose  was  now  the  picture,  and  that  the  pict- 
ure was  become  the  real  Rose.  I  detested  my  former 
coarse,  rude  handiwork  ;  and  when  I  came  so  intimately 
into  contact  with  the  incidents  of  common  life,  getting 
one's  '  mastership  '  and  getting  married,  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  going  to  be  confined  in  a  dungeon  and  chained  to 
the  stocks.  How  indeed  can  the  divine  being  whom  I 
carry  in  my  heart  ever  be  my  wife?  No,  she  shall  for 
ever  stand  forth  glorious  in  youth,  grace,  and  beauty, 
in  the  pictures — the  masterpieces — which  my  restless 
spirit  shall  create.  Oh  !  how  I  long  for  such  things  ! 
How  came  I  ever  to  turn  away  from  my  divine  art  ?  O 
thou  glorious  land,  thou  home  of  Art,  soon  again  will  I 
revel  amidst  thy  cool  and  balmy  airs."  The  friends 
had  reached  the  place  where  the  road  which  Reinhold 
intended  to  take  turned  to  the  left.  "  Here  we  will 
part,"  cried  Reinhold,  pressing  Frederick  to  his  heart 
in  a  long  warm  embrace  ;  then  he  threw  himself  upon 
horseback  and  galloped  away.  Frederick  stood  watch- 
ing him  without  uttering  a  word,  and  then,  agitated  by 
the  most  unaccountable  feelings,  he  slowly  wended  his 
way  homewards. 

How  Frederick  was  driven  out  of  the  workshop  by 
Master  Martin. 

The  next  day  Master  Martin  was  working  away  at 
the  great  cask  for  the  Bishop  of  Bamberg  in  moody 
silence,  nor  could  Frederick,  who  now  felt  the  full 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


137 


bitterness  of  parting  from  Reinhold,  utter  a  word  either, 
still  less  break  out  into  song.  At  last  Master  Martin 
threw  aside  his  mallet,  and  crossing  his  arms,  said  in  a 
muffled  voice,  "Well,  Reinhold's  gone.  He  was  a  dis- 
tinguished painter,  and  has  only  been  making  a  fool  of 
me  with  his  pretence  of  being  a  cooper.  Oh  !  that  I 
had  only  had  an  inkling  of  it  when  he  came  into  my 
house  along  with  you  and  bore  himself  so  smart  and 
clever,  wouldn't  I  just  have  shown  him  the  door  !  Such 
an  open  honest  face,  and  so  much  deceit  and  treachery 
in  his  mind!  Well,  he's  gone,  and  now  you  will  faith- 
fully and  honestly  stick  to  me  and  my  handiwork. 
Who  knows  whether  you  may  not  become  something 
more  to  me  still — when  you  have  become  a  skilful 
master  and  Rose  will  have  you — well,  you  understand 
me,  and  may  try  to  win  Rose's  favour."  Forthwith  he 
took  up  his  mallet  and  worked  away  lustily  again. 
Frederick  did  not  know  how  to  account  for  it,  but 
Master  Martin's  words  rent  his  breast,  and  a  strange 
feeling  of  anxiety  arose  in  his  mind,  obscuring  every 
glimmer  of  hope.  After  a  long  interval  Rose  made  a 
first  appearance  again  in  the  workshop,  but  was  very 
reserved,  and,  as  Frederick  to  his  mortification  could 
see,  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping.  She  has  been 
weeping  for  him,  she  does  love  him,  thus  he  said 
within  himself,  and  he  was  quite  unable  to  raise  his 
eyes  to  her  whom  he  loved  with  such  an  unutterable 
love. 

The  mighty  cask  was  finished,  and  now  Master  Mar- 
tin began  to  be  blithe  and  in  good  humour  again  as  he 
regarded  this  very  successful  piece  of  work.  "  Yes,  my 
son,"  said  he,  clapping  Frederick  on  the  shoulder, 
"yes,  my  son,  I  will  keep  my  word  :  if  you  succeed  in 
winning  Rose's  favour  and  build  a  good  sound  master- 
piece, you  shall  be  my  son-in-law.    And  then  you  can 


i38 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


also  join  the  noble  guild  of  the  Meistersinger,  and  so 
win  you  great  honour." 

Master  Martin's  business  now  increased  so  very 
greatly  that  he  had  to  engage  two  other  journeymen, 
clever  workmen,  but  rude  fellows,  quite  demoralised  by 
their  long  wanderings.  Coarse  jests  now  echoed  in  the 
workshop  instead  of  the  many  pleasant  talks  of  former 
days,  and  in  place  of  Frederick  and  Reinhold's  agree- 
able singing  were  now  heard  low  and  obscene  ditties. 
Rose  shunned  the  workshop,  so  that  Frederick  saw  her 
but  seldom,  and  only  for  a  few  moments  at  a  time. 
And  then  when  he  looked  at  her  with  melancholy  long- 
ing and  sighed,  "Oh!  if  I  might  talk  to  you  again, 
dear  Rose,  if  you  were  only  as  friendly  again  as  at  the 
time  when  Reinhold  was  still  with  us  ! "  she  cast  down 
her  eyes  in  shy  confusion  and  whispered  "  Have  you 
something  to  tell  me,  dear  Frederick  ?"  And  Frederick 
stood  like  a  statue,  unable  to  speak  a  word,  and  the 
golden  opportunity  was  quickly  past,  like  a  flash  of 
lightning  that  darts  across  the  dark  red  glow  of  the 
evening,  and  is  gone  almost  before  it  is  observed. 

Master  Martin  now  insisted  that  Frederick  should 
begin  his  masterpiece.  He  had  himself  sought  out  the 
finest,  purest  oak  wood,  without  the  least  vein  or  flaw, 
which  had  been  over  five  years  in  his  wood-store,  and 
nobody  was  to  help  Frederick  except  old  Valentine. 
Not  only  was  Frederick  put  more  and  more  out  of 
taste  with  his  work  by  the  rough  journeymen,  but  he 
felt  a  tightness  in  his  throat  as  he  thought  that  this 
masterpiece  was  to  decide  over  his  whole  life  long. 
The  same  peculiar  feeling  of  anxiety  which  he  had 
experienced  when  Master  Martin  wTas  praising  his 
faithful  devotion  to  his  handiwork  now  grew  into  a 
more  and  more  distinct  shape  in  a  quite  dreadful  way. 
He  now  knew  that  he  should  fail  miserably  and  dis- 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


139 


gracefully  in  his  work  ;  his  mind,  now  once  more 
completely  taken  up  with  his  own  art,  was  fundament- 
ally averse  to  it.  He  could  not  forget  Reinhold  and 
Rose's  picture.  His  own  art  now  put  on  again  her 
full  glory  in  his  eyes.  Often  as  he  was  working,  the 
crushing  sense  of  the  unmanliness  of  his  conduct  quite 
overpowered  him,  and,  alleging  that  he  was  unwell,  he 
ran  off  to  St.  Sebald's  Church.  There  he  spent  hours 
in  studying  Peter  Fischer's  marvellous  monument,  and 
he  would  exclaim,  as  if  ravished  with  delight,  "  Oh, 
good  God  !  Is  there  anything  on  earth  more  glorious 
than  to  conceive  and  execute  such  a  work  ? "  And 
when  he  had  to  go  back  again  to  his  staves  and  hoops, 
and  remembered  that  in  this  way  only  was  Rose  to  be 
won,  he  felt  as  if  burning  talons  were  rending  his 
bleeding  heart,  and  as  if  he  must  perish  in  the  midst 
of  his  unspeakable  agony.  Reinhold  often  came  to 
him  in  his  dreams  and  brought  him  striking  designs 
for  artistic  castings,  into  which  Rose's  form  was  worked 
in  most  ingenious  ways,  now  as  a  flower,  now  as  an 
angel,  with  little  wings.  But  there  was  always  some- 
thing wanting  ;  he  discovered  that  it  was  Rose's  heart 
which  Reinhold  had  forgotten,  and  that  he  added  to 
the  design  himself.  Then  he  thought  he  saw  all  the 
flowers  and  leaves  of  the  work  move,  singing  and  dif- 
fusing their  sweet  fragrances,  and  the  precious  metals 
showed  him  Rose's  likeness  in  their  glittering  surface. 
Then  he  stretched  out  his  arms  longingly  after  his 
beloved,  but  the  likeness  vanished  as  if  in  dim  mist, 
and  Rose  herself,  pretty  Rose,  pressed  him  to  her  loving 
heart  in  an  ecstasy  of  passionate  love. 

His  condition  with  respect  to  the  unfortunate  coop- 
erage grew  worse  and  worse,  and  more  and  more 
unbearable,  and  he  went  to  his  old  master  Johannes 
Holzschuer  to  seek  comfort  and  assistance.    He  allowed 


i4o 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


Frederick  to  begin  in  his  shop  a  piece  of  work  which 
he,  Frederick,  had  thought  out  and  for  which  he  had 
for  some  time  been  saving  up  his  earnings,  so  that  he 
could  procure  the  necessary  gold  and  silver.  Thus  it 
happened  that  Frederick  was  scarcely  ever  at  work  in 
Martin's  shop,  and  his  deathly  pale  face  gave  credence 
to  his  pretext  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  consuming 
illness.  Months  went  past,  and  his  masterpiece,  his 
great  two-tun  cask,  was  not  advanced  any  further. 
Master  Martin  was  urgent  upon  him  that  he  should  at 
least  do  as  much  as  his  strength  would  allow,  and 
Frederick  really  saw  himself  compelled  to  go  to  the 
hated  cutting  block  again  and  take  the  adze  in  hand. 
Whilst  he  was  working,  Master  Martin  drew  near  and 
examined  the  staves  at  which  he  was  working  ;  and 
he  got  quite  red  in  the  face  and  cried,  "What  do  you 
call  this  ?  What  work  is  this,  Frederick  ?  Has  a  jour- 
neyman been  preparing  these  staves  for  his  '  mastership,' 
or  a  stupid  apprentice  who  only  put  his  nose  into  the 
workshop  three  days  ago  ?  Pull  yourself  together,  lad  : 
what  devil  has  entered  into  you  that  you  are  making  a 
bungle  of  things  like  this  ?  My  good  oak  wood, — and 
this  your  masterpiece  !  Oh  !  you  awkward,  imprudent 
boy  !  "  Overmastered  by  the  torture  and  agony  which 
raged  within  him,  Frederick  was  unable  to  contain 
himself  any  longer ;  so,  throwing  the  adze  from  him 
he  said,  "  Master,  it's  all  over  ;  no,  even  though  it  cost 
me  my  life,  though  I  perish  in  unutterable  misery,  I 
cannot  work  any  longer — no,  I  cannot  work  any  longer 
at  this  coarse  trade.  An  irresistible  power  is  drawing 
me  back  to  my  own  glorious  art.  Your  daughter  Rose 
I  love  unspeakably,  more  than  anybody  else  on  earth 
can  ever  love  her.  It  is  only  for  her  sake  that  I  ever 
entered  upon  this  hateful  work.  I  have  now  lost  her, 
I  know,  and  shall  soon  die  of  grief  for  love  of  her ;  but 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


141 


I  can't  help  it,  I  must  go  back  to  my  own  glorious 
art,  to  my  excellent  old  master,  Johannes  Holzschuer, 
whom  I  so  shamefully  deserted."  Master  Martin's  eyes 
blazed  like  flashing  candles.  Scarce  able  to  speak  for 
rage,  he  stammered,  "  What !  you  too !  Deceit  and 
treachery  !  Dupe  vie  like  this  !  coarse  trade — cooper- 
age !  Out  of  my  eyes,  you  disgraceful  fellow  ;  begone 
with  you  !  "  And  therewith  he  laid  hold  of  poor  Fred- 
erick by  the  shoulders  and  threw  him  out  of  the  shop, 
which  the  rude  journeymen  and  apprentices  greeted 
with  mocking  laughter.  But  old  Valentine  folded  his 
hands,  and  gazing  thoughtfully  before  him,  said,  "  I've 
noticed,  that  I  have,  the  good  fellow  had  something 
higher  in  his  mind  than  our  casks."  Dame  Martha 
shed  many  tears,  and  her  boys  cried  and  screamed  for 
Frederick,  who  had  often  played  kindly  with  them  and 
brought  them  several  lots  of  sweets. 

Conclusion. 

However  angry  Master  Martin  might  feel  towards 
Reinhold  and  Frederick,  he  could  not  but  admit  to 
himself  that  along  with  them  all  joy  and  all  pleasure 
had  disappeared  from  the  workshop.  Every  day  he 
was  annoyed  and  provoked  by  the  new  journeymen. 
He  had  to  look  after  every  little  trifle,  and  it  cost  him 
no  end  of  trouble  and  exertion  to  get  even  the  smallest 
amount  of  work  done  to  his  mind.  Quite  tired  out 
with  the  cares  of  the  day,  he  often  sighed,  "O  Rein- 
hold  !  O  Frederick  !  I  wish  you  had  not  so  shamefully 
deceived  me,  I  wish  you  had  been  good  coopers." 
Things  at  last  got  so  bad  that  he  often  contemplated 
the  idea  of  giving  up  business  altogether. 

As  he  was  sitting  at  home  one  evening  in  one  of 
these  gloomy  moods,  Herr  Jacobus  Paumgartner  and 
along  with  him  Master  Johannes  Holzschuer  came  in 


142 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


quite  unexpectedly.  He  saw  at  once  that  they  were 
going  to  talk  about  Frederick  ;  and  in  fact  Herr  Paum- 
gartner  very  soon  turned  the  conversation  upon  him, 
and  Master  Holzschuer  at  once  began  to  say  all  he 
could  in  praise  of  the  young  fellow.  It  was  his  opinion 
that  Frederick  with  his  industry  and  his  gifts  would 
certainly  not  only  make  an  excellent  goldsmith,  but 
also  a  most  admirable  art-caster,  and  would  tread  in 
Peter  Fischer's  footsteps.  And  now  Herr  Paumgartner 
began  to  reproach  Master  Martin  in  no  gentle  terms 
for  his  unkind  treatment  of  his  poor  journeyman  Fred- 
erick, and  they  both  urged  him  to  give  Rose  to  the 
young  fellow  to  wife  when  he  was  become  a  skilful 
goldsmith  and  caster, — that  is,  of  course,  in  case  she 
looked  with  favour  upon  him, — for  his  affection  for  her 
tingled  in  every  vein  he  had.  Master  Martin  let  them 
have  their  say  out,  then  he  dolfed  his  cap  and  said, 
smiling,  "  That's  right,  my  good  sirs,  I'm  glad  you  stand 
up  so  bravely  for  the  journeyman  who  so  shamefully 
deceived  me.  That,  however,  I  will  forgive  him  ;  but 
don't  ask  that  I  should  alter  my  fixed  resolve  for  his 
sake  ;  Rose  can  never  be  anything  to  him."  At  this 
moment  Rose  entered  the  room,  pale  and  with  eyes  red 
with  weeping,  and  she  silently  placed  wine  and  glasses 
on  the  table.  "Well  then,"  began  Herr  Holzschuer, 
"  I  must  let  poor  Frederick  have  his  own  way ;  he 
wants  to  leave  home  for  ever.  He  has  done  a  beautiful 
piece  of  work  at  my  shop,  which,  if  you,  my  good 
master,  will  allow,  he  will  present  to  Rose  as  a  keep- 
sake ;  look  at  it."  Whereupon  Master  Holzschuer 
produced  a  small  artistically-chased  silver  cup,  and 
handed  it  to  Master  Martin,  who,  a  great  lover  of 
costly  vessels  and  such  like,  took  it  and  examined  it 
on  all  sides  with  much  satisfaction.  And  indeed  a 
more  splendid  piece  of  silver  work  than  this  little  cup 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


H3 


could  hardly  be  seen.  Delicate  chains  of  vine-leaves 
and  roses  were  intertwined  round  about  it,  and  pretty 
angels  peeped  up  out  of  the  roses  and  the  bursting 
buds,  whilst  within,  on  the  gilded  bottom  of  the  cup, 
were  engraved  angels  lovingly  caressing  each  other. 
And  when  the  clear  bright  wine  was  poured  into  the 
cup,  the  little  angels  seemed  to  dance  up  and  down  as 
if  playing  prettily  together.  "  It  is  indeed  an  elegant 
piece  of  work,"  said  Master  Martin,  "  and  I  will  keep  it 
if  Frederick  will  take  the  double  of  what  it  is  worth  in 
good  gold  pieces."  Thus  speaking,  he  filled  the  cup 
and  raised  it  to  his  lips.  At  this  moment  the  door  was 
softly  opened,  and  Frederick  stepped  in,  his  counte- 
nance pale  and  stamped  with  the  bitter,  bitter  pain  of 
separating  for  ever  from  her  he  held  dearest  on  earth. 
As  soon  as  Rose  saw  him  she  uttered  a  loud  piercing 
cry,  "  O  my  dearest  Frederick  !  "  and  fell  almost  faint- 
ing on  his  breast.  Master  Martin  set  down  the  cup, 
and  on  seeing  Rose  in  Frederick's  arms  opened  his 
eyes  wide  as  if  he  saw  a  ghost.  Then  he  again  took  up 
the  cup  without  speaking  a  word,  and  looked  into  it ; 
but  all  at  once  he  leapt  from  his  seat  and  cried  in  a 
loud  voice,  "Rose,  Rose,  do  you  love  Frederick?" 
"  Oh  !  "  whispered  Rose,  "  I  cannot  any  longer  conceal 
it,  I  love  him  as  I  love  my  own  life  ;  my  heart  nearly 
broke  when  you  sent  him  away."  "Then  embrace 
your  betrothed,  Frederick  ;  yes,  yes,  your  betrothed, 
Frederick,"  cried  Master  Martin.  Paumgartner  and 
Holzschuer  looked  at  each  other  utterly  bewildered 
with  astonishment,  but  Master  Martin,  holding  the  cup 
in  his  hand,  went  on,  "  By  the  good  God,  has  it  not  all 
come  to  pass  as  the  old  lady  prophesied  ? — 

'A  vessel  fair  to  see  he'll  bring, 
In  which  the  spicy  liquid  foams, 
And  bright,  bright  angels  gaily  sing. 


144 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


.  .  .  The  vessel  fair  with  golden  grace, 
Lo  !  him  who  brings  it  in  the  house, 
Thou  wilt  reward  with  sweet  embrace, 
And,  an  thy  lover  be  but  true, 
Thou  need'st  not  wait  thy  father's  kiss.' 

O  stupid  fool  I  have  been  !  Here  is  the  vessel  fair  to 
see,  the  angels — the  lover — Ay  !  ay  !  gentlemen  ;  it's 
all  right  now,  all  right  now  ;  my  son-in-law  is  found." 

Whoever  has  had  his  mind  ever  confused  by  a  bad 
dream,  so  that  he  thought  he  was  lying  in  the  deep 
cold  blackness  of  the  grave,  and  suddenly  he  awakens 
in  the  midst  of  the  bright  spring-tide  full  of  fragrance 
and  sunshine  and  song,  and  she  whom  he  holds  dearest 
on  earth  has  come  to  him  and  has  cast  her  arms  about 
him,  and  he  can  look  up  into  the  heaven  of  her  lovely 
face, — whoever  has  at  any  time  experienced  this  will 
understand  Frederick's  feelings,  will  comprehend  his 
exceeding  great  happiness.  Unable  to  speak  a  word, 
he  held  Rose  tightly  clasped  in  his  arms  as  though  he 
would  never  let  her  leave  him,  until  she  at  length  gently 
disensracred  herself  a.nd  led  him  to  her  father.  Then 
he  found  his  voice,  "  O  my  dear  master,  is  it  all  really 
true  ?  You  will  give  me  Rose  to  wife,  and  I  may  go 
back  to  my  art?"  "Yes,  yes,"  said  Master  Martin, 
"you  may  in  truth  believe  it ;  can  I  do  any  other  since 
you  have  fulfilled  my  old  grandmother's  prophecy  ? 
You  need  not  now  of  course  go  on  with  your  master- 
piece." Then  Frederick,  perfectly  radiant  with  delight, 
smiled  and  said,  "No,  my  dear  master,  if  it  be  pleasing 
to  you  I  will  now  gladly  and  in  good  spirits  finish  my 
big  cask — my  last  piece  of  work  in  cooperage — and 
then  I  will  go  back  to  the  melting-furnace."  "Yes, 
my  good  brave  son,"  replied  Master  Martin,  his  eyes 
sparkling  with  joy,  "yes,  finish  your  masterpiece,  and 
then  we'll  have  the  wedding." 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


*45 


Frederick  kept  his  word  faithfully,  and  finished  the 
two-tun  cask  ;  and  all  the  masters  declared  that  it 
would  be  no  easy  task  to  do  a  finer  piece  of  work, 
whereat  Master  Martin  was  delighted  down  to  the 
ground,  and  was  moreover  of  opinion  that  Providence 
could  not  have  found  for  him  a  more  excellent  son-in- 
law. 

At  length  the  wedding  day  was  come,  Frederick's 
masterpiece  stood  in  the  entrance  hall  filled  with  rich 
wine,  and  crowned  with  garlands.  The  masters  of  the 
trade,  with  the  syndic  Jacobus  Paumgartner  at  their 
head,  put  in  an  appearance  along  with  their  house- 
wives, followed  by  the  master  goldsmiths.  All  was 
ready  for  the  procession  to  begin  its  march  to  St. 
Sebald's  Church,  where  the  pair  were  to  be  married, 
when  a  sound  of  trumpets  was  heard  in  the  street, 
and  a  neighing  and  stamping  of  horses  before  Martin's 
house.  Master  Martin  hastened  to  the  bay-window. 
It  was  Herr  Heinrich  von  Spangenberg,  in  gay  holiday 
attire,  who  had  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  house  ;  a  few 
paces  behind  him,  on  a  high-spirited  horse,  sat  a 
young  and  splendid  knight,  his  glittering  sword  at  his 
side,  and  high-coloured  feathers  in  his  baretta,  which 
was  also  adorned  with  flashing  jewels.  Beside  the 
knight,  Herr  Martin  perceived  a  wondrously  beautiful 
lady,  likewise  splendidly  dressed,  seated  on  a  jennet 
the  colour  of  fresh-fallen  snow.  Pages  and  attendants 
ia  brilliant  coats  formed  a  circle  round  about  them. 
The  trumpet  ceased,  and  old  Herr  von  Spangenberg 
shouted  up  to  him,  "  Aha  !  aha !  Master  Martin,  I 
have  not  come  either  for  your  wine  cellar  or  for  your 
gold  pieces,  but  only  because  it  is  Rose's  wedding  day. 
Will  you  let  me  in,  good  master  ? "  Master  Martin 
remembered  his  own  words  very  well,  and  was  a  little 
ashamed  of  himself  ;  but  he  hurried  down  to  receive 
Vol.  II.— 10 


i46 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


the  Junker.  The  old  gentleman  dismounted,  and  after 
greeting  him,  entered  the  house.  Some  of  the  pages 
sprang  forward,  and  upon  their  arms  the  lady  slipped 
down  from  her  palfrey  ;  the  knight  gave  her  his  hand 
and  followed  the  old  gentleman.  But  when  Master 
Martin  looked  at  the  young  knight  he  recoiled  three 
paces,  struck  his  hands  together,  and  cried,  "  Good 
God!  Conrad!"  "Yes,  Master  Martin,"  said  the 
knight,  smiling,  "  I  am  indeed  your  journeyman  Con- 
rad. Forgive  me  for  the  wound  I  inflicted  on  you. 
But  you  see,  my  good  master,  that  I  ought  properly 
to  have  killed  you  ;  but  things  have  now  all  turned 
out  different."  Greatly  confused,  Master  Martin  replied, 
that  it  was  after  all  better  that  he  had  not  been  killed  ; 
of  the  little  bit  of  a  cut  with  the  adze  he  had  made  no 
account.  Now  when  Master  Martin  with  his  new 
guests  entered  the  room  where  the  bridal  pair  and  the 
rest  were  assembled,  they  were  all  agreeably  surprised 
at  the  beautiful  lady,  who  was  so  exactly  like  the  bride, 
even  down  to  the  minutest  feature,  that  they  might 
have  been  taken  for  twin-sisters.  The  knight  ap- 
proached the  bride  with  courtly  grace  and  said,  "  Grant, 

0  lovely  Rose,  that  Conrad  be  present  here  on  this 
auspicious  day.  You  are  not  now  angry  with  the  wild 
thoughtless  journeyman  who  was  nigh  bringing  a  great 
trouble  upon  you,  are  you  ? "  But  as  the  bridegroom 
and  the  bride  and  Master  Martin  were  looking  at  each 
other  in  great  wonder  and  embarrassment,  old  Herr 
von  Spangenberg  said,  "  Well,  well,  I  see  I  must  help 
you  out  of  your  dream.  This  is  my  son  Conrad,  and 
here  is  his  good,  true  wife,  named  Rose,  like  the  lovely 
bride.    Call  our  conversation  to  mind,  Master  Martin. 

1  had  a  very  special  reason  for  asking  you  whether  you 
would  refuse  your  Rose  to  my  son,  The  young  puppy 
was  madly  in  love  with  her,  and  he  induced  me  to  lay 


MASTER  MARTIN. 


147 


aside  all  other  considerations  and  make  up  my  mind  to 
come  and  woo  her  on  his  behalf.  But  when  I  told  him 
in  what  an  uncourteous  way  I  had  been  dismissed,  he 
in  the  most  nonsensical  way  stole  into  your  house  in 
the  guise  of  a  cooper,  intending  to  win  her  favour  and 
then  actually  to  run  away  with  her.  But — you  cured 
him  with  that  good  sound  blow  across  his  back  ;  my 
best  thanks  for  it.  And  now  he  has  found  a  lady  of 
rank  who  most  likely  is,  after  all,  the  Rose  who  was 
properly  in  his  heart  from  the  beginning." 

Meanwhile  the  lady  had  with  graceful  kindness 
greeted  the  bride,  and  hung  a  valuable  pearl  necklace 
round  her  neck  as  a  wedding  present.  "  See  here,  dear 
Rose,"  she  then  said,  taking  a  very  withered  bunch  of 
flowers  out  from  amongst  the  fresh  blooming  ones 
which  she  wore  at  her  bosom — "  see  here,  dear  Rose, 
these  are  the  flowers  that  you  once  gave  my  Conrad  as 
the  prize  of  victory  ;  he  kept  them  faithfully  until  he 
saw  me,  then  he  was  unfaithful  to  you  and  gave  them 
to  me  ;  don't  be  angry  with  me  fur  it."  Rose,  her 
cheeks  crimson,  cast  down  her  eyes  in  shy  confusion, 
saying,  "Oh  !  noble  lady,  how  can  you  say  so  ?  Could 
the  Junker  then  ever  really  love  a  poor  maiden  like 
me  ?  You  alone  were  his  love,  and  it  was  only  because 
I  am  called  Rose,  and,  as  they  say  here,  something  like 
you,  that  he  wooed  me,  all  the  while  thinking  it  was 
you." 

A  second  time  the  procession  was  about  to  set  out, 
when  a  young  man  entered  the  room,  dressed  in  the 
Italian  style,  all  in  black  slashed  velvet,  with  an  elegant 
lace  collar  and  rich  golden  chains  of  honour  hanging 
from  his  neck.  "O  Reinhold,  my  Reinhold  !"  cried 
Frederick,  throwing  himself  upon  the  young  man's 
breast.  The  bride  and  Master  Martin  also  cried  out 
excitedly,  "Reinhold,  our  brave  Reinhold  is  come!" 


MASTER  MAR  TLX. 


"  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  said  Reinhold,  returning  Freder- 
ick's embrace  with  warmth, — "  did  I  not  tell  you,  my 
dear,  dear  friend,  that  things  might  turn  out  gloriously 
for  you  ?  Let  me  celebrate  your  wedding  day  with 
you  ;  I  have  come  a  long  way  on  purpose  to  do  so  ; 
and  as  a  lasting  memento  hang  up  in  your  house  the 
picture  which  I  have  painted  for  you  and  brought  with 
me."  And  then  he  called  down  to  his  two  servants, 
who  brought  in  a  large  picture  in  a  magnificent  gold 
frame.  It  represented  Master  Martin  in  his  workshop 
along  with  his  journeymen  Reinhold,  Frederick,  and 
Conrad  working-  at  the  great  cask,  and  lovely  Rose  was 
just  entering  the  shop.  Everybody  was  astonished  at 
the  truth  and  magnificent  colouring  of  the  piece  as  a 
work  of  art.  "Ay,"  said  Frederick,  smiling,  "that  is, 
I  suppose,  your  masterpiece  as  cooper  ;  mine  is  below 
yonder  in  the  entrance-hall  ;  but  I  shall  soon  make 
another."  "I  know  all,"  replied  Reinhold,  "and  rate 
you  lucky.  Only  stick  fast  to  your  art  ;  it  can  put  up 
with  more  domesticity  and  such-like  than  mine." 

At  the  marriage  feast  Frederick  sat  between  the 
two  Roses,  and  opposite  him  Master  Martin  between 
Conrad  and  Reinhold.  Then  Herr  Paumgartner  filled 
Frederick's  cup  up  to  the  brim  with  rich  wine,  and 
drank  to  the  weal  of  Master  Martin  and  his  brave 
journeymen.  The  cup  went  round  ;  and  first  it  was 
drained  by  the  noble  Junker  Heinrich  von  Spangen- 
berg,  and  after  him  by  all  the  worthy  masters  who  sat 
at  the  table — to  the  weal  of  Master  Martin  and  his 
brave  journeymen. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


A  TALE  OF  THE  TIMES  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 

HE  little  house  in  which  lived  Madeleine  de  Scu- 


■  deri,1  well  known  for  her  pleasing  verses,  and  the 
favour  of  Louis  XIV.  and  the  Marchioness  de  Mainte- 
non,  was  situated  in  the  Rue  St.  Honoree. 

One  night  almost  at  midnight — it  would  be  about 
the  autumn  of  the  year  1680 — there  came  such  a  loud 
and  violent  knocking  at  the  door  of  her  house  that  it 
made  the  whole  entrance-passage  ring  again.  Baptiste, 
who  in  the  lady's  small  household  discharged  at  one 
and  the  same  time  the  offices  of  cook,  footman,  and 
porter,  had  with  his  mistress's  permission  gone  into 
the  country  to  attend  his  sister's  wedding  ;  and  thus  it 
happened  that  La  Martiniere,  Mademoiselle's  lady- 
maid,  was  alone,  and  the  only  person  awake  in  the 
house.  The  knockings  were  repeated.  She  suddenly 
remembered  that  Baptiste  had  gone  for  his  holiday, 
and  that  she  and  her  mistress  were  left  in  the  house 


'Madeleine  de  Scudery  (1607-1701),  a  native  of  Normandy,  went 
to  Paris  and  became  connected  with  the  Hotel  Rambouillet.  After- 
wards, on  its  being  broken  up  by  the  troubles  of  the  Fronde,  she 
formed  a  literary  circle  of  her  own,  their  "  Saturday  gatherings  "  be- 
coming celebrated.  Mademoiselle  de  Scudery  wrote  some  vapid  and 
tedious  novels,  amongst  which  were  the  Clelie  (1656),  an  historical  ro- 
mance, to  be  mentioned  presently  in  the  text. 


ISO  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


without  any  further  protection.  All  the  outrages — 
burglaries,  thefts,  and  murders — which  were  then  so 
common  in  Paris,  crowded  upon  her  mind  ;  she  was 
sure  it  was  a  band  of  cut-throats  who  were  making  all 
this  disturbance  outside  ;  they  must  be  well  aware  how 
lonely  the  house  stood,  and  if  let  in  would  perpetrate 
some  wicked  deed  against  her  mistress  ;  and  so  she 
remained  in  her  room,  trembling  and  quaking  with 
fear,  and  cursing  Baptiste  and  his  sister's  wedding  as 
well. 

Meanwhile  the  hammering  at  the  door  was  being 
continued  ;  and  she  fancied  she  heard  a  voice  shouting 
at  intervals,  "  Oh  !  do  open  the  door  !  For  God's  sake, 
do  open  the  door  !  "  At  last  La  Martiniere's  anxiety 
rose  to  such  a  pitch  that,  taking  up  the  lighted  candle, 
she  ran  out  into  the  passage.  There  she  heard  quite 
plainly  the  voice  of  the  person  knocking,  "  For  God's 
sake !  do  open  the  door,  please  ! "  "  Certainly," 
thought  she,  "  that  surely  is  not  the  way  a  robber 
would  knock.  Who  knows  whether  it  is  not  some 
poor  man  being  pursued  and  wants  protection  from 
Mademoiselle,  who  is  always  ready  to  do  an  act  of 
kindness  ?  But  let  us  be  cautious."  Opening  a 
window,  she  called  out,  asking  who  was  down  there 
making  such  a  loud  noise  at  the  house -door  so  late  at 
night,  awakening  everybody  up  out  of  their  sleep  ;  and 
she  endeavoured  to  give  her  naturally  deep  voice  as 
manly  a  tone  as  she  possibly  could. 

By  the  glimmer  of  the  moon,  which  now  broke 
through  the  dark  clouds,  she  could  make  out  a  tall 
figure,  enveloped  in  a  light-grey  mantle,  having  his 
broad-brimmed  hat  pulled  down  right  over  his  eyes. 
Then  she  shouted  in  a  loud  voice,  so  as  to  be  heard  by 
the  man  below,  "  Baptiste,  Claude,  Pierre,  get  up  and 
go  and  see  who  this  good-for-nothing  vagabond  is, 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDRRL 


who  is  trying  to  break  into  the  house."  But  the  voice 
from  below  made  answer  gently,  and  in  a  tone  that 
had  a  plaintive  ring  in  it,  "  Oh  !  La  Martiniere,  I 
know  quite  well  that  it  is  you,  my  good  woman, 
however  much  you  try  to  disguise  your  voice  ;  I  also 
know  that  Baptiste  has  gone  into  the  country,  and 
that  you  are  alone  in  the  house  with  your  mistress. 
You  may  confidently  undo  the  door  for  me  ;  you  need 
have  no  fear.  For  I  must  positively  speak  with  your 
mistress,  and  this  very  minute."  "  Whatever  are  you 
thinking  about  ?  "  replied  La  Martiniere.  "  You  want 
to  speak  to  Mademoiselle  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ? 
Don't  you  know  that  she  has  been  gone  to  bed  a  long 
time,  and  that  for  no  price  would  I  wake  her  up  out 
of  her  first  sound  sleep,  which  at  her  time  of  life  she 
has  so  much  need  of  ? "  The  person  standing  below 
said,  "  But  I  know  that  your  mistress  has  only  just 
laid  aside  her  new  romance  Clclie,  at  which  she  labours 
so  unremittingly  ;  and  she  is  now  writing  certain 
verses  which  she  intends  to  read  to  the  Marchioness 
de  Maintenon 1  to-morrow.  I  implore  you,  Madame 
Martiniere,  have  pity  and  open  me  the  door.  I  tell 
you  the  matter  involves  the  saving  of  an  unfortunate 
man  from  ruin, — that  the  honour,  freedom,  nay,  that 
the  life  of  a  man  is  dependent  upon  this  moment,  and 
I  must  speak  to  Mademoiselle.  Recollect  how  your 
mistress's  anger  would  rest  upon  you  for  ever,  if  she 
learned  that  you  had  had  the  hard-heartedness  to  turn 
an  unfortunate  man  away  from  her  door  when  he  came 
to  supplicate  her  assistance."  "  But  why  do  you  come 
to  appeal  to  my  mistress's  compassion  at  this  unusual 
hour  ?     Come  again  early  in  the  morning,"  said  La 


1  The  well-known  wife  of  Scarron,  then  the  successor  of  Madame  de 
Montespan  in  the  favour  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  afterwards  his  wife. 


152  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


Martinicrc.  The  person  below  replied,  "  Does  Destiny, 
then,  heed  times  and  hours  when  it  strikes,  like  the 
fatal  flash,  fraught  with  destruction  ?  When  there  is 
but  a  single  moment  longer  in  which  rescue  is  still 
possible,  ought  assistance  to  be  delayed  ?  Open  me 
the  door  ;  you  need  have  nothing  to  fear  from  a  poor 
defenceless  wretch,  who  is  deserted  of  all  the  world, 
pursued  and  distressed  by  an  awful  fate,  when  he  comes 
to  beseech  Mademoiselle  to  save  him  from  threaten- 
ing danger  ?  "  La  Martiniere  heard  the  man  below 
moaning  and  sobbing  with  anguish  as  he  said  these 
words,  and  at  the  same  time  the  voice  was  the  voice 
of  a  young  man,  gentle,  and  gifted  with  the  power 
of  appealing  straight  to  the  heart.  She  was  greatly 
touched  ;  without  much  further  deliberation  she 
fetched  the  keys. 

But  hardly  had  she  got  the  door  opened  when  the 
figure  enveloped  in  the  mantle  burst  tumultuously  in, 
and  striding  past  Martiniere  into  the  passage,  cried 
wildly,  "  Lead  me  to  your  mistress!"  In  terror 
Martiniere  lifted  up  the  candle,  and  its  light,  fell  upon 
a  young  man's  face,  deathly  pale  and  fearfully  agitated. 
Martiniere  almost  dropped  on  the  floor  with  fright,  for 
the  man  now  threw  open  his  mantle  and  showed  the 
bright  hilt  of  a  stiletto  sticking  out  of  the  bosom  of 
his  doublet.  His  eyes  flashed  fire  as  he  fixed  them 
upon  her,  crying  still  more  wildly  than  before,  "  Lead 
me  to  your  mistress,  I  tell  you."  Martiniere  now 
believed  Mademoiselle  was  in  the  most  imminent 
danger  ;  and  her  affection  for  her  beloved  mistress, 
whom  she  honoured,  moreover,  as  her  good  and 
faithful  mother,  burnt  up  stronger  in  her  heart, 
enkindling  a  courage  which  she  had  not  conceived 
herself  capable  of  showing.  Hastily  pulling  to  the 
door  of  her  chamber,  which  she  had  left  standing  open, 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


153 


she  planted  herself  before  it,  and  said  in  a  strong  firm 
voice,  "  I  tell  you  what,  your  mad  behaviour  in  the 
house  here,  corresponds  but  ill  with  your  plaintive 
words  outside  ;  I  see  clearly  that  I  let  my  pity  be 
excited  on  a  wrong  occasion.  You  neither  ought  to, 
nor  shall  you,  speak  to  my  mistress  now.  If  your 
intentions  are  not  evil,  you  need  not  fear  daylight  ;  so 
come  again  to-morrow  and  state  your  business  then. 
Now,  begone  with  you  out  of  the  house."  The  man 
heaved  a  deep  and  painful  sigh,  and  fixing  Martiniere 
with  a  formidable  look,  grasped  his  stiletto.  She 
silently  commended  her  soul  to  Heaven,  but  manfully 
stood  her  ground,  and  boldly  met  the  man's  gaze,  at 
the  same  time  drawing  herself  closer  to  the  door,  for 
through  it  the  man  would  have  to  go  to  get  to  her 
mistress's  chamber.  "  Let  me  go  to  your  mistress,  I 
tell  you  !  "  cried  the  man  again.  "  Do  what  you  will," 
replied  Martiniere,  "  I  shall  not  stir  from  this  place. 
Go  on  and  finish  your  wicked  deed  ;  but  remember 
that  you  also  will  die  a  shameful  death  at  the  Place 
Greve,  like  your  atrocious  partners  in  crime."  "Ah! 
yes,  you  are  right,  La  Martiniere,"  replied  the  man, 
"  I  do  look  like  a  villainous  robber  and  cut-throat,  and 
am  armed  like  one,  but  my  partners  have  not  been 
executed, — no,  not  yet."  Therewith,  hurling  looks  of 
furious  wrath  at  the  poor  woman,  who  was  almost 
dead  with  terror,  he  drew  his  stiletto.  "  O  God  !  O 
God !  "  she  exclaimed,  expecting  her  death-blow  ;  but 
at  this  moment  there  was  heard  a  rattle  of  arms  in  the 
street,  and  the  hoof-strokes  of  horses.  "  The  Mare- 
chausse'e  !  1  the  Marcchaussee  !  Help  !  Help  !  "  screamed 
Martiniere.  "  You  abominable  woman,  you  are  de- 
termined to  ruin  me.     All  is  lost  now — it's  all  over. 


1  A  kind  of  mounted  gensdarmes  or  police. 


154 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


But  here,  here— take  this.  Give  that  to  your  mistress 
this  very  night — to-morrow  if  you  like."  Whispering 
these  words,  he  snatched  the  light  from  La  Mar- 
tiniere, extinguished  it,  and  then  forced  a  casket  into 
her  hands.  "  By  your  hopes  of  salvation,  I  conjure 
you,  give  this  casket  to  Mademoiselle,"  cried  the  man  ; 
and  he  rushed  out  of  the  house. 

Martiniere  fell  to  the  floor  ;  at  length  she  rose  up 
with  difficulty,  and  groped  her  way  back  in  the  darkness 
to  her  own  room,  where  she  sank  down  in  an  arm-chair 
completely  exhausted,  unable  to  utter  a  sound.  Then 
she  heard  the  keys  rattle,  which  she  had  left  in  the  lock 
of  the  street-door.  The  door  was  closed  and  locked, 
and  she  heard  cautious,  uncertain  footsteps  approach- 
ing her  room.  She  sat  riveted  to  the  chair  without 
power  to  move,  expecting  something  terrible  to  happen. 
But  her  sensations  may  be  imagined  when  the  door 
opened,  and  by  the  light  of  the  night-taper  she  recog- 
nised at  the  first  glance  that  it  was  honest  Baptiste, 
looking  very  pale  and  greatly  troubled.  "  In  the  name 
of  all  the  saints!"  he  began,  "tell  me,  Dame  Martin- 
iere, what  has  happened  ?  Oh  !  the  anxiety  and  fear 
I  have  had  !  I  don't  know  what  it  was,  but  something 
drove  me  away  from  the  wedding  last  evening.  I 
couldn't  help  myself  ;  I  had  to  come.  On  getting  into 
our  street,  I  thought,  Dame  Martiniere  sleeps  lightly, 
she'll  be  sure  to  hear  me,  thinks  I,  if  I  tap  softly  and 
gently  at  the  door,  and  will  come  out  and  let  me  in. 
Then  there  comes  a  strong  patrol  on  horseback  as  well 
as  on  foot,  all  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  they  stop  me  and 
won't  let  me  go  on.  But  luckily  Desgrais  the  lieuten- 
ant of  the  Marechaussee,  is  amongst  them,  who  knows 
me  quite  well  ;  and  when  they  put  their  lanterns  under 
my  nose,  he  says,  '  Why,  Baptiste,  where  are  you  com- 
ing from  at  this  time  o'  night  ?     You'd  better  stay 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


155 


quietly  in  the  house  and  take  care  of  it.  There's  some 
deviltry  at  work,  and  we  are  hoping  to  make  a  good 
capture  to-night'  You  wouldn't  believe  how  heavy 
these  words  fell  on  my  heart,  Dame  Martiniere.  And 
then  when  I  put  my  foot  on  the  threshold,  there  comes 
a  man,  all  muffled  up,  rushing  out  of  the  house  with  a 
drawn  dagger  in  his  hand,  and  he  runs  over  me — head 
over  heels.  The  door  was  open,  and  the  keys  sticking 
in  the  lock.  Oh  !  tell  me  what  it  all  means."  Mar- 
tiniere, relieved  of  her  terrible  fear  and  anxiety,  related 
all  that  had  taken  place. 

Then  she  and  Baptiste  went  out  into  the  passage,  and 
there  they  found  the  candlestick  lying  on  the  floor 
where  the  stranger  had  thrown  it  as  he  ran  away.  "  It 
is  only  too  certain,"  said  Baptiste,  "that  our  Mademoi- 
selle would  have  been  robbed,  ay,  and  even  murdered, 
I  make  no  doubt.  The  fellow  knew,  as  you  say,  that 
you  were  alone  with  Mademoiselle, — why,  he  also  knew 
fehat  she  was  awake  with  her  writings.  I  would  bet 
anything  it  was  one  of  those  cursed  rogues  and  thieves 
who  force  their  way  right  into  the  houses,  cunningly 
spying  out  everything  that  may  be  of  use  to  them  in 
carrying  out  their  infernal  plans.  And  as  for  that  little 
casket,  Dame  Martiniere — I  think  we'd  better  throw  it 
into  the  Seine  where  it's  deepest.  Who  can  answer  for 
it  that  there's  not  some  wicked  monster  got  designs  on 
our  good  lady's  life,  and  that  if  she  opens  the  box  she 
won't  fall  down  dead  like  old  Marquis  de  Tournay  did, 
when  he  opened  a  letter  that  came  from  somebody  he 
didn't  know  ?  " 

After  a  long  consultation  the  two  faithful  souls  made 
up  their  minds  to  tell  their  mistress  everything  next 
morning,  and  also  to  place  the  mysterious  casket  in  her 
hands,  for  of  course  it  could  be  opened  with  proper 
precautions.    After  minutely  weighing  every  circum- 


156  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 

stance  connected  with  the  suspicious  stranger's  appear- 
ance, they  were  both  of  the  same  opinion,  namely,  that 
there  was  some  special  mystery  connected  with  the 
matter,  which  they  durst  not  attempt  to  control  single- 
handed  ;  they  must  leave  it  to  their  good  lady  to  un- 
riddle. 

Baptiste's  apprehensions  were  well  founded.  Just 
at  that  time  Paris  was  the  scene  of  the  most  abomina- 
ble atrocities,  and  exactly  at  the  same  period  the  most 
diabolical  invention  of  Satan  was  made,  to  offer  the 
readiest  means  for  committing  these  deeds. 

Glaser,  a  German  apothecary,  the  best  chemist  of  his 
age,  had  busied  himself,  as  people  of  his  profession 
were  in  the  habit  of  doing,  with  alchemistical  experi- 
ments. He  had  made  it  the  object  of  his  endeavour  to 
discover  the  Philosopher's  Stone.  His  coadjutor  was 
an  Italian  of  the  name  of  Exili.  But  this  man  only 
practised  alchemy  as  a  blind.  His  real  object  was  to 
learn  all  about  the  mixing  and  decoction  and  sublimat- 
ing of  poisonous  compounds,  by  which  Glaser  on  his 
part  hoped  to  make  his  fortune  ;  and  at  last  he  suc- 
ceeded in  fabricating  that  subtle  poison  1  that  is  with- 
out smell  and  without  taste,  that  kills  either  on  the 
spot  or  gradually  and  slowly,  without  ever  leaving  the 
slightest  trace  in  the  human  body,  and  that  deceives 
all  the  skill  and  art  of  the  physicians,  since,  not  sus- 
pecting the  presence  of  poison,  they  fail  not  to  ascribe 
the  death  to  natural  causes.  Circumspectly  as  Exili 2 
went  to  work,  he  nevertheless  fell  under  the  suspicion 
of  being  a  seller  of  poison,  and  was  thrown  into  the 
Bastille.  Soon  afterwards  Captain  Godin  de  Sainte 
Croix  was  confined  in  the  same  dungeon.    This  man 


1  Supposed  to  have  been  arsenic. 

2  These  facts  are  all  for  the  most  part  historically  true. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


157 


had  for  a  long  time  been  living  in  relations  with  the 
Marchioness  de  Brinvillier,1  which  brought  disgrace  on 
all  the  family  ;  so  at  last,  as  the  Marquis  continued  in- 
different to  his  wife's  shameful  conduct,  her  father, 
Dreux  d'Aubray,  Civil  Lieutenant  of  Paris,  compelled  the 
guilty  pair  to  part  by  means  of  a  warrant  which  was 
executed  upon  the  Captain.  Passionate,  unprincipled, 
hypocritically  feigning  to  be  pious,  and  yet  inclined 
from  his  youth  up  to  all  kinds  of  vice,  jealous,  revenge- 
ful even  to  madness,  the  Captain  could  not  have  met 
with  any  more  welcome  information  than  that  contained 
in  Exili's  diabolical  secret,  since  it  would  give  him  the 
power  to  annihilate  all  his  enemies.  He  became  an 
eager  scholar  of  Exili,  and  soon  came  to  be  as  clever 
as  his  master,  so  that,  on  being  liberated  from  the  Bas- 
tille, he  was  in  a  position  to  work  on  unaided. 

Before  an  abandoned  woman,  De  Brinvillier  became 
through  Sainte  Croix's  instrumentality  a  monster.  He 
contrived  to  induce  her  to  poison  successively  her  own 
father,  with  whom  she  was  living,  tending  with  heart- 
less hypocrisy  his  declining  days,  and  then  her  two 
brothers,  and  finally  her  sister, — her  father  out  of  re- 
venge, and  the  others  on  account  of  the  rich  family  in- 
heritance. From  the  histories  of  several  poisoners  we 
have  terrible  examples  how  the  commission  of  crimes 
of  this  class  becomes  at  last  an  all-absorbing  passion. 
Often,  without  any  further  purpose  than  the  mere  vile 
pleasure  of  the  thing,  just  as  chemists  make  experi- 
ments for  their  own  enjoyment,  have  poisoners  de- 
stroyed persons  whose  life  or  death  must  have  been  to 
them  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference. 

1  Marie  M.  d'Aubray,  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers,  a  notorious  poisoner, 
executed  July  16,  1676.  Madame  de  Sevigne's  Lettres  contain  inter- 
esting information  on  the  events  of  this  period.  A  special  history  of 
De  Brinvillier' s  trial  was  also  published  in  the  same  year,  1676. 


i58 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


The  sudden  decease  of  several  poor  people  in  the 
Hotel  Dieu  some  time  afterwards  excited  the  suspicion 
that  the  bread  had  been  poisoned  which  Brinvillier,  in 
order  to  acquire  a  reputation  for  piety  and  benevolence, 
used  to  distribute  there  every  week.  At  any  rate,  it  is 
undoubtedlv  true  that  she  was  in  the  habit  of  serving 
the  guests  whom  she  invited  to  her  house  with  poisoned 
pigeon  pie.  The  Chevalier  de  Guet  and  several  other 
persons  fell  victims  to  these  hellish  banquets.  Sainte 
Croix,  his  confederate  La  Chaussee,1  and  Brinvillier 
were  able  for  a  long  time  to  enshroud  their  horrid 
deeds  behind  an  impenetrable  veil.  But  of  what  avail 
is  the  infamous  cunning  of  reprobate  men  when  the 
Divine  Power  has  decreed  that  punishment  shall  over- 
take the  guilty  here  on  earth  ? 

The  poisons  which  Sainte  Croix  prepared  were  of 
so  subtle  a  nature  that  if  the  powder  (called  by  the 
Parisians  Poudre  de  Succession,  or  Succession  Powder) 
were  prepared  with  the  face  exposed,  a  single  inhala- 
tion of  it  might  cause  instantaneous  death.  Sainte 
Croix  therefore,  when  engaged  in  its  manufacture, 
always  wore  a  mask  made  of  fine  glass.  One  day, 
just  as  he  was  pouring  a  prepared  powder  into  a  phial, 
his  mask  fell  off,  and,  inhaling  the  fine  particles  of  the 
poison,  he  fell  down  dead  on  the  spot.  As  he  had 
died  without  heirs,  the  officers  of  the  law  hastened  to 
place  his  effects  under  seal.  Amongst  them  they 
found  a  locked  box,  which  contained  the  whole  of 
the  infernal  arsenal  of  poisons  that  the  abandoned 
wretch  Sainte  Croix  had  had  at  command  ;  they  also 
found  Brinvillier's  letters,  which  left  no  doubt  as  to 
her  atrocious  crimes.    She  fled  to  Liege,  into  a  con- 


1  An  old  servant  of  Sainte  Croix's,  whose  real  name  was  Jean 
Amelin. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCÜDERI. 


159 


vent  there.  Desgrais,  an  officer  of  the  Marcchaussee, 
was  sent  after  her.  In  the  disguise  of  a  monk  he 
arrived  at  the  convent  where  she  had  concealed  her- 
self, and  contrived  to  engage  the  terrible  woman  in  a 
love  intrigue,  and  finally,  under  the  pretext  of  a  secret 
meeting,  to  entice  her  out  to  a  lonely  garden  beyond 
the  precincts  of  the  town.  Directly  she  arrived  at  the 
appointed  place  she  was  surrounded  by  Desgrais' 
satellites,  whilst  her  monkish  lover  was  suddenly  con- 
verted into  an  officer  of  the  Marechausse'e,  who  com- 
pelled her  to  get  into  the  carriage  which  stood  ready 
near  the  garden  ;  and,  surrounded  by  the  police  troop, 
she  was  driven  straight  off  to  Paris.  La  Chaussee  had 
been  already  beheaded  somewhat  earlier  ;  Brinvillier 
suffered  the  same  death,  after  which  her  body  was 
burned  and  the  ashes  scattered  to  the  winds. 

Now  that  the  monster  who  had  been  able  to  direct 
his  secret  murderous  weapons  against  both  friend  and 
foe  alike  unpunished  was  out  of  the  world,  the  Parisians 
breathed  freely  once  more.  But  it  soon  became  known 
abroad  that  the  villain  Sainte  Croix's  abominable  art 
had  been  handed  down  to  certain  successors.  Like  a 
malignant  invisible  spirit,  murder  insinuated  itself  into 
the  most  intimate  circles,  even  the  closest  of  those 
formed  by  relationship  and  love  and  friendship,  and 
laid  a  quick  sure  grasp  upon  its  unfortunate  victims. 
He  who  was  seen  one  day  in  the  full  vigour  of  health, 
tottered  about  the  next  a  weak  wasting  invalid,  and 
no  skill  of  the  physician  could  save  him  from  death. 
Wealth,  a  lucrative  office,  a  beautiful  and  perhaps  too 
young  a  wife — any  of  these  was  sufficient  to  draw 
down  upon  the  possessor  this  persecution  unto  death. 
The  most  sacred  ties  were  severed  by  the  cruellest 
mistrust.  The  husband  trembled  at  his  wife,  the 
father  at  his  son,  the  sister  at  the  brother.    The  dishes 


i6o 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


remained  untouched,  and  the  wine  at  the  dinner, 
which  a  friend  put  before  his  friends  ;  and  there  where 
formerly  jest  and  mirth  had  reigned  supreme,  savage 
glances  wTere  now  spying  about  for  the  masked 
murderer.  Fathers  of  families  were  observed  buying 
provisions  in  remote  districts  with  uneasy  looks  and 
movements,  and  preparing  them  themselves  in  the  first 
dirty  cook-shop  they  came  to,  since  they  feared  dia- 
bolical treachery  in  their  own  homes.  And  yet  even 
the  greatest  and  most  well-considered  precautions  were 
in  many  cases  of  no  avail. 

In  order  to  put  a  stop  to  this  iniquitous  state  of 
tilings,  which  continued  to  gain  ground  and  grow 
greater  day  by  day,  the  king  appointed  a  special  court 
of  justice  for  the  exclusive  purpose  of  inquiring  into 
and  punishing  these  secret  crimes.  This  was  the  so- 
called  Chambre  Ardente,  which  held  its  sittings  not  far 
from  the  Bastille,  its  acting  president  being  La  Regnie.1 
For  a  considerable  period  all  his  efforts,  however 
zealously  they  were  prosecuted,  remained  fruitless  ;  it 
was  reserved  for  the  crafty  Desgrais  to  discover  the 
most  secret  haunts  of  the  criminals.  In  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  there  lived  an  old  woman  called  Voisin, 
who  made  a  regular  business  of  fortune-telling  and 
raising  departed  spirits  ;  and  with  the  help  of  her 
confederates  Le  Sage  and  Le  Vigoureux,  she  managed 
to  excite  fear  and  astonishment  in  the  minds  of  persons 
who  could  not  be  called  exactly  either  weak  or  credu- 
lous. But  she  did  more  than  this.  A  pupil  of  Exili, 
like  La  Croix,  she,  like  him,  concocted  the  same  subtle 
poison  that  killed  and  left  no  trace  behind  it  ;  and  so 


1  Nicholas  G.  de  la  Reynie  was  born  at  Limoges  in  1625  ;  he  ac- 
quired a  sort  of  Judge  Jeffreys'  reputation  by  his  cruelties  and  blood- 
thirstiness  as  president  of  the  Chambre  Ardente. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


161 


she  helped  in  this  way  profligate  sons  to  get  early- 
possession  of  their  inheritance,  and  depraved  wives  to 
another  and  younger  husband.  Desgrais  wormed  his 
way  into  her  secret ;  she  confessed  all  ;  the  Chambre 
Ardente  condemned  her  to  be  burned  alive,  and  the 
sentence  was  executed  in  the  Place  Greve. 

Amongst  her  effects  was  found  a  list  of  all  the 
persons  who  had  availed  themselves  of  her  assistance  ; 
and  hence  it  was  that  not  only  did  execution  follow 
upon  execution,  but  grave  suspicion  fell  even  upon 
persons  of  high  position.  Thus  it  was  believed  that 
Cardinal  Bonzy  had  obtained  from  La  Yoisin  the  means 
of  bringing  to  an  untimely  end  all  those  persons  to 
whom,  as  Archbishop  of  Narbonne,  he  was  obliged  to 
pay  annuities.  So  also  the  Duchess  de  Bouillon,  and 
the  Countess  de  Soissons,1  whose  names  were  found 
on  the  list,  were  accused  of  having  had  dealings  with 
the  diabolical  woman  ;  and  even  Francois  Henri  de 
Montmorenci,  Boudebelle,  Duke  of  Luxemburg,2  peer 
and  marshal  of  the  kingdom,  was  not  spared.  He  too 
was  prosecuted  by  the  terrible  Cha?nbre  Ardente.  He 
voluntarily  gave  himself  up  to  be  imprisoned  in  the 
Bastille,  where  through  Louvois'  3  and  La  Regnie's 
hatred  he  was  confined  in  a  cell  only  six  feet  long. 
Months  passed  before  it  was  made  out  satisfactorily 
that  the  Duke's  transgression  did  not  deserve  any 

1  These  two  ladies,  Marie  and  Olympe  Mancini,  were  sisters,  nieces 
of  Mazarin.  The  latter  was  promoted  to  be  head  of  the  Queen's 
household,  and  thus  provoked  the  hatred  of  Madame  de  Montespan 
(the  King's  mistress)  and  Louvois,  through  whose  machinations  she 
was  accused  before  the  Cha?nbre  A  rdente. 

2  Francois  Henry  de  Montmorency,  Duke  of  Luxembourg,  was 
known  until  1661  by  the  name  of  Boutevillc.  His  name  stands  high 
on  the  roll  of  distinguished  French  Marshals. 

3  Francois  Michel  Le  Tellier,  Marquis  de  Louvois  (1639-91),  Louis 
XIV. 's  minister  at  this  time. 

Vol.  II.— 11 


1 62  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDÜRI. 


blame  :  he  had  once  had  his  horoscope  cast  by  Le 
Sage. 

It  is  certain  that  the  President  JLa  Regnie  was  be- 
trayed by  his  blind  zeal  into  acts  of  cruelty  and  arbitrary 
violence.  The  tribunal  acquired  the  character  of  an 
Inquisition  ;  the  most  trifling  suspicion  was  sufficient 
to  entail  strict  incarceration  ;  and  it  was  left  to  chance 
to  establish  the  innocence  of  a  person  accused  of  a 
capital  crime.  Moreover,  La  Regnie  was  hideous  in 
appearance,  and  of  a  malicious  temperament,  so  that 
he  soon  drew  down  upon  himself  the  hatred  of  those 
whose  avenger  or  protector  lie  was  appointed  to  be. 
The  Duchess  de  Bouillon,  being  asked  by  him  during 
her  trial  if  she  had  seen  the  devil,  replied,  "  I  fancy  I 
can  see  him  at  this  moment."  1 

But  whilst  the  blood  of  the  guilty  and  the  suspected 
alike  was  flowing  in  streams  in  the  Place  Greve,  and 
after  a  time  the  secret  poisonings  became  less  and  less 
frequent,  a  new  kind  of  outrage  came  to  light,  and 
again  filled  the  city  with  dismay.  It  seemed  as  if 
a  band  of  miscreant  robbers  were  in  league  together 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  into  their  possession  all  the 
jewellery  they  could.  No  sooner  was  any  valuable 
ornament  purchased  than,  no  matter  how  or  where 
kept,  it  vanished  in  an  inconceivable  way.  But  what 
was  still  worse,  anyone  who  ventured  to  wear  jewellery 
on  his  person  at  night  was  robbed,  and  often  murdered 
even,  either  in  the  public  street  or  in  the  dark  passage 
of  a  house.  Those  who  escaped  with  their  lives  de- 
clared that  they  had  been  knocked  down  by  a  blow  on 
the  head,  which  felled  them  like  a  lightning  flash,  and 

1  Her  real  answer  was,  "Je  le  vois  en  ce  moment ;  il  est  fort  laid  et 
fort  vilain  ;  il  est  deguise  en  conseiller  d'etat.  (I  see  him  at  this 
moment ;  he  is  very  ugly  and  very  hideous  ;  he  is  disguised  as  a  state 
councillor.) 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


163 


that  on  awaking  from  their  stupor  they  had  found  that 
they  had  been  robbed  and  were  lying  in  quite  a  different 
place  from  that  where  they  had  received  the  blow.  All 
who  were  murdered,  some  of  whom  were  found  nearly 
every  morning  lying  either  in  the  streets  or  in  the 
houses,  had  all  one  and  the  same  fatal  wound, — a 
dagger-thrust  in  the  heart,  killing,  according  to  the 
judgment  of  the  surgeons,  so  instantaneously  and  so 
surely  that  the  victim  would  drop  down  like  a  stone, 
unable  to  utter  a  sound.  Who  was  there  at  the  volup- 
tuous court  of  Louis  XIV.  who  was  not  entangled  in 
some  clandestine  intrigue,  and  stole  to  his  mistress  at  a 
late  hour,  often  carrying  a  valuable  present  about  him  ? 
The  robbers,  as  if  they  were  in  league  with  spirits, 
knew  almost  exactly  when  anything  of  this  sort  was  on 
foot.  Often  the  unfortunate  did  not  reach  the  house 
where  he  expected  to  meet  with  the  reward  of  his 
passion  ;  often  he  fell  on  the  threshold,  nay,  at  the  very 
chamber  door  of  his  mistress,  who  was  horrified  at  find- 
ing the  bloody  corpse. 

In  vain  did  Argenson,  the  Minister  of  Police,  order 
the  arrest  of  every  person  from  amongst  the  populace 
against  whom  there  was  the  least  suspicion  ;  in  vain 
did  La  Regnie  rage  and  try  to  extort  confessions  ;  in 
vain  did  they  strengthen  their  watch  and  their  patrols  ; 
— they  could  not  find  a  trace  of  the  evil-doers.  The 
only  thing  that  did  to  a  certain  extent  avail  was  to 
take  the  precaution  of  going  armed  to  the  teeth  and 
have  a  torch  carried  before  one  ;  and  yet  instances  were 
not  wanting  in  which  the  servant  was  annoyed  by  stones 
thrown  at  him,  whilst  at  the  same  moment  his  master 
was  murdered  and  robbed.  It  was  especially  remark- 
able that,  in  spite  of  all  inquiries  in  every  place  where 
traffic  in  jewellery  was  in  any  way  possible,  not  the 
smallest  specimen  of  the  stolen  ornaments  ever  came  to 


1 64  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


light,  and  so  in  this  way  also  no  clue  was  found  which 
might  have  been  followed. 

Desgrais  wras  furious  that  the  miscreants  should  thus 
baffle  all  his  cunning.  The  quarter  of  the  town  in 
which  he  happened  to  be  stationed  wTas  spared  ;  whilst 
in  the  others,  wiiere  nobody  apprehended  any  evil,  these 
robberies  and  murders  claimed  their  richest  victims. 

Desgrais  hit  upon  the  ruse  of  making  several  Des- 
grais one  after  the  other,  so  exactly  alike  in  gait,  post- 
ure, speech,  figure,  and  face,  that  the  myrmidons  of  the 
police  themselves  did  not  know  which  w^as  the  real 
Desgrais.  Meanwhile,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life,  he 
used  to  watch  alone  in  the  most  secret  haunts  and  lairs 
of  crime,  and  foliowT  at  a  distance  first  this  man  and 
then  that,  who  at  his  own  instance  carried  some  valu- 
able jewellery  about  his  person.  These  men,  however, 
were  not  attacked ;  and  hence  the  robbers  must  be 
acquainted  with  this  contrivance  also.  Desgrais  abso- 
lutely despaired. 

One  morning  Desgrais  came  to  President  La  Regnie 
pale  and  perturbed,  quite  distracted  in  fact.  "  What's 
the  matter?  What  news?  Have  you  got  a  clue  ?"  cried 
the  President.  "Oh!  your  excellency,"  began  Desgrais, 
stammering  with  rage,  "oh!  your  excellency — last 
night — not  far  from  the  Louvre — the  Marquis  de  la 
Fare 1  wTas  attacked  in  my  presence."  "  By  Heaven 
then  !"  shouted  La  Regnie,  exultant  wTith  joy,  "we  have 
them."  "But  first  listen  to  me,"  interrupted  Desgrais 
with  a  bitter  smile,  "  and  hear  how  it  all  came  about. 
Well  then,  I  wTas  standing  near  the  Louvre  on  the 
watch  for  these  devils  who  mock  me,  and  my  heart  wTas 
on  fire  with  fury.    Then  there  came  a  figure  close  past 

1  The  Marquis  de  la  Fare  had  liaisons,  first  with  Madame  de 
Rochefort,  with  Louvois  for  rival,  and  afterwards  with  Madame  de  la 
Sabliere. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


165 


me  without  noticing  me,  walking  with  unsteady  steps 
and  looking  behind  him.  By  the  faint  moonlight  I  saw 
that  it  was  Marquis  de  la  Fare.  I  was  not  surprised  to 
see  him  ;  I  knew  where  he  was  stealing  to.  But  he 
had  not  gone  more  than  ten  or  twelve  paces  past  me 
when  a  man  started  up  right  out  of  the  earth  as  it 
seemed  and  knocked  him  down,  and  stooped  over  him. 
In  the  sudden  surprise  and  on  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment, which  would  else  have  delivered  the  murderer 
into  my  hands,  I  was  thoughtless  enough  to  cry  out ; 
and  I  was  just  bursting  out  of  my  hiding-place  with  a 
rush,  intending  to  throw  myself  upon  him,  when  I  got 
entangled  in  my  mantle  and  fell  down.  I  saw  the  man 
hurrying  away  on  the  wings  of  the  wind ;  I  made  haste 
and  picked  myself  up  and  ran  after  him  ;  and  as  I  ran 
I  blew  my  horn ;  from  the  distance  came  the  answering 
whistles  of  the  man  ;  the  streets  were  all  alive  ;  there 
was  a  rattle  of  arms  and  a  trampling  of  horses  in 
all  directions.  1  Here  !  here  !  Desgrais  !  Desgrais  ! '  I 
shouted  till  the  streets  echoed.  By  the  bright  moonlight 
I  could  always  see  the  man  in  front  of  me,  doubling 
here  and  there  to  deceive  me.  We  came  to  the  Rue 
Nicaise,  and  there  his  strength  appeared  to  fail  him  :  I 
redoubled  my  efforts  ;  and  he  only  led  me  by  fifteen 

paces  at  the  most"   "You  caught  him  up;  you 

seized  him  ;  the  patrol  came  up?"  cried  La  Regnie,  his 
eyes  flashing,  whilst  he  seized  Desgrais  by  the  arm  as 
though  he  were  the  flying  murderer.  "  Fifteen  paces," 
continued  Desgrais  in  a  hollow  voice  and  with  difficulty 
drawing  his  breath — "  fifteen  paces  from  me  the  man 
sprang  aside  into  the  shade  and  disappeared  through 
the  wall."  "Disappeared? — through  the  wall?  Are 
you  mad  ? "  cried  La  Regnie,  taking  a  couple  of  steps 
backwards  and  striking  his  hands  together. 

"  From  this  moment  onwards,"  continued  Desgrais, 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


rubbing  his  brow  like  a  man  tormented  by  hateful 
thoughts,  "  your  excellency  may  call  me  a  madman  or 
an  insane  ghost-seer,  but  it  was  just  as  I  have  told  you. 
I  was  standing  staring  at  the  wall  like  one  petrified 
when  several  men  of  the  patrol  hurried  up  breathless, 
and  along  with  them  Marquis  de  la  Fare,  who  had 
picked  himself  up,  with  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 
We  lighted  the  torches,  and  sounded  the  wall  back- 
wards and  forwards, — not  an  indication  of  a  door  or  a 
window  or  an  opening.  It  was  a  strong  stone  wall 
bounding  a  yard,  and  was  joined  on  to  a  house  in 
which  live  people  against  whom  there  has  never  risen 
the  slightest  suspicion.  To-day  I  have  again  taken  a 
careful  survey  of  the  whole  place.  It  must  be  the 
Devil  himself  who  is  mystifying  us." 

Desgrais'  story  became  known  in  Paris.  People's 
heads  were  full  of  the  sorceries  and  incantations  and 
compacts  with  Satan  of  Voisin,  Vigoureuse,  and  the 
reprobate  priest  Le  Sage  ;  and  as  in  the  eternal  nature 
of  us  men,  the  leaning  to  the  marvellous  and  the  won- 
derful so  often  outweighs  all  the  authority  of  reason, 
so  the  public  soon  began  to  believe  simply  and  solely 
that  as  Desgrais  in  his  mortification  had  said,  Satan 
himself  really  did  protect  the  abominable  wretches,  who 
must  have  sold  their  souls  to  him.  It  will  readily  be 
believed  that  Desgrais'  story  received  all  sorts  of  orna- 
mental additions.  An  account  of  the  adventure,  with 
a  woodcut  on  the  title-page  representing  a  grim  Satanic 
form  before  which  the  terrified  Desgrais  was  sinking 
in  the  earth,  was  printed  and  largely  sold  at  the  street 
corners.  This  alone  was  enough  to  overawe  the  people, 
and  even  to  rob  the  myrmidons  of  the  police  of  their 
courage,  who  now  wandered  about  the  streets  at  night 
trembling  and  quaking,  hung  about  with  amulets  and 
soaked  in  holy  water. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


167 


Argenson  perceived  that  the  exertions  of  the  Chambre 
Ardente  were  of  no  avail,  and  he  appealed  to  the  king 
to  appoint  a  tribunal  with  still  more  extensive  powers 
to  deal  with  this  new  epidemic  of  crime,  to  hunt  up 
the  evil-doers,  and  to  punish  them.  The  king,  con- 
vinced that  he  had  already  vested  too  much  power  in  the 
Chambre  Ardente,  and  shaken  with  horror  at  the  number- 
less executions  which  the  bloodthirsty  La  Regnie  had 
decreed,  flatly  refused  to  entertain  the  proposed  plan. 

Another  means  was  chosen  to  stimulate  the  king's 
interest  in  the  matter. 

Louis  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  the  afternoon  in 
Madame  de  Maintenon's  salons,  and  also  despatching 
state  business  there  with  his  ministers  until  a  late  hour 
at  night.  Here  a  poem  was  presented  to  him  in  the 
name  of  the  jeopardised  lovers,  complaining  that, 
whenever  gallantry  bid  them  honour  their  mistress 
with  a  present,  they  had  always  to  risk  their  lives  on 
the  fulfilment  of  the  injunction.  There  was  always 
both  honour  and  pleasure  to  be  won  in  shedding  their 
blood  for  their  lady  in  a  knightly  encounter  ;  but  it 
was  quite  another  thing  when  they  had  to  deal  with  a 
stealthy  malignant  assassin,  against  whom  they  could 
not  arm  themselves.  Would  Louis,  the  bright  polar 
star  of  all  love  and  gallantry,  cause  the  resplendent 
beams  of  his  glory  to  shine  and  dissipate  this  dark 
night,  and  so  unveil  the  black  mystery  that  was  con- 
cealed within  it  ?  The  god-like  hero,  who  had  broken 
his  enemies  to  pieces,  would  now  (they  hoped)  draw 
his  sword  glittering  with  victory,  and,  as  Hercules  did 
against  the  Lernean  serpent,  or  Theseus  the  Minotaur, 
would  fight  against  the  threatening  monster  which  was 
gnawing  away  all  the  raptures  of  love,  and  darkening 
all  their  joy  and  converting  it  into  deep  pain  and  grief 
inconsolable. 


1 68  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


Serious  as  the  matter  was,  yet  the  poem  did  not 
lack  clever  and  witty  turns,  especially  in  the  description 
of  the  anxieties  which  the  lovers  had  to  endure  as  they 
stole  by  secret  ways  to  their  mistresses,  and  of  how  their 
apprehensions  proved  fatal  to  all  the  rapturous  delights 
of  love  and  to  every  dainty  gallant  adventure  before  it 
could  even  develop  into  blossom.  If  it  be  added  that 
the  poem  was  made  to  conclude  with  a  magniloquent 
panegyric  upon  Louis  XIV.,  the  king  could  not  fail 
to  read  it  with  visible  signs  of  satisfaction.  Having 
reached  the  end  of  it,  he  turned  round  abruptly  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  without  lifting  his  eyes  from 
the  paper,  and  read  the  poem  through  again  aloud  ; 
after  which  he  asked  her  with  a  gracious  smile  what 
was  her  opinion  with  respect  to  the  wishes  of  the 
jeopardised  lovers. 

De  Maintenon,  faithful  to  the  serious  bent  of  her 
mind,  and  always  preserving  a  certain  colour  of  piety, 
replied  that  those  who  walked  along  secret  and  for- 
bidden paths  were  not  worthy  of  any  special  protec- 
tion, but  that  the  abominable  criminals  did  call  for 
special  measures  to  be  taken  for  their  destruction. 
The  king,  dissatisfied  with  this  wavering  answer, 
folded  up  the  paper,  and  was  going  back  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  State,  who  was  working  in  the  next  room,  when 
on  casting  a  glance  sideways  his  eye  fell  upon  Made- 
moiselle de  Scuderi,  who  was  present  in  the  salon  and 
had  taken  her  seat  in  a  small  easy-chair  not  far  from 
De  Maintenon.  Her  he  now  approached,  whilst  the 
pleasant  smile  which  at  first  had  played  about  his 
mouth  and  on  his  cheeks,  but  had  then  disappeared, 
now  won  the  upper  hand  again.  Standing  immediate- 
ly in  front  of  Mademoiselle,  and  unfolding  the  poem 
once  more,  he  said  softly,  "Our  Marchioness  will  not 
countenance  in  any  way  the  gallantries  of  our  amorous 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL  169 


gentlemen,  and  give  us  evasive  answers  of  a  kind  that 
are  almost  quite  forbidden.  But  you,  Mademoiselle, 
what  is  your  opinion  of  this  poetic  petition  ? "  De 
Scuderi  rose  respectfully  from  her  chair,  whilst  a  pass- 
ing blush  flitted  like  the  purple  sunset  rays  in  evening 
across  the  venerable  lady's  pale  cheeks,  and  she  said, 
bowing  gently  and  casting  down  her  eyes, 

"  Un  amant  qui  craint  les  voleurs 
N'est  point  digne  d' amour." 

(A  lover  who  is  afraid  of  robbers  is  not  worthy  of 
love.) 

The  king,  greatly  struck  by  the  chivalric  spirit 
breathed  in  these  few  words,  which  upset  the  whole  of 
the  poem  with  its  yards  and  yards  of  tirades,  cried  with 
sparkling  eyes,  "  By  St.  Denis,  you  are  right,  Made- 
moiselle !  Cowardice  shall  not  be  protected  by  any 
blind  measures  which  would  affect  the  innocent  along 
with  the  guilty  ;  Argenson  and  La  Regnie  must  do 
their  best  as  they  are." 

All  these  horrors  of  the  day  La  Martiniere  depicted 
next  morning  in  startling  colours  when  she  related  to 
her  mistress  the  occurrence  of  the  previous  night  ;  and 
she  handed  over  to  her  the  mysterious  casket  in  fear 
and  trembling.  Both  she  and  Baptiste,  who  stood  in 
the  corner  as  pale  as  death,  twisting  and  doubling  up 
his  night-cap,  and  hardly  able  to  speak  in  his  fear  and 
anxiety, — both  begged  Mademoiselle  in  the  most  piteous 
terms  and  in  the  names  of  all  the  saints,  to  use  the 
utmost  possible  caution  in  opening  the  box.  De 
Scuderi,  weighing  the  locked  mystery  in  her  hand, 
and  subjecting  it  to  a  careful  scrutiny,  said  smiling, 
''You  are  both  of  you  ghost-seers!  That  I  am  not 
rich,  that  there  are  not  sufficient  treasures  here  to  be 
worth  a  murder,  is  known  to  all  these  abandoned  as- 


170  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


sassins,  who,  you  yourself  tell  me,  spy  out  all  that 
there  is  in  a  house,  as  well  as  it  is  to  me  and  you. 
You  think  they  have  designs  upon  my  life  ?  Who 
could  make  capital  out  of  the  death  of  an  old  lady  of 
seventy-three,  who  never  did  harm  to  anybody  in  the 
world  except  the  miscreants  and  peace-breakers  in  the 
romances  which  she  writes  herself,  who  makes  middling 
verses  which  can  excite  nobody's  envy,  who  will  have 
nothing  to  leave  except  the  state  dresses  of  an  old 
maid  who  sometimes  went  to  court,  and  a  dozen  or 
two  well-bound  books  with  gilt  edges  ?  And  then  you, 
Martiniere, — you  may  describe  the  stranger's  appear- 
ance as  frightful  as  you  like,  yet  I  cannot  believe  that 
his  intentions  were  evil.    So  then  " 

La  Martiniere  recoiled  some  paces,  and  Baptiste, 
uttering  a  stifled  "  Oh  !  "  almost  sank  upon  his  knees 
as  Mademoiselle  proceeded  to  press  upon  a  projecting 
steel  knob  ;  then  the  lid  flew  back  with  a  noisy  jerk. 

But  how  astonished  was  she  to  see  a  pair  of  gold 
bracelets,  richly  set  with  jewels,  and  a  necklace  to 
match.  She  took  them  out  of  the  case  ;  and  whilst 
she  was  praising  the  exquisite  workmanship  of  the 
necklace,  Martiniere  was  eyeing  the  valuable  bracelets, 
and  crying  time  after  time,  that  the  vain  Lady  Mont- 
espan  herself  had  no  such  ornaments  as  these.  "  But 
what  is  it  for  ?  what  does  it  all  mean  ? "  said  De 
Scudcri.  But  at  this  same  moment  she  observed  a 
small  slip  of  paper  folded  together,  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  the  casket.  She  hoped,  and  rightly,  to  find  in  it 
an  explanation  of  the  mystery.  She  had  hardly  fin- 
ished reading  the  contents  of  the  scrip  when  it  fell 
from  her  trembling  hands.  She  sent  an  appealing 
glance  towards  Heaven,  and  then  fell  back  almost 
fainting  into  her  chair.  Terrified,  Martiniere  sprang 
to  her  assistance,  and  so  also  did  Baptiste.    "  Oh ! 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


171 


what  an  insult  ! "  she  exclaimed,  her  voice  half-choked 
with  tears,  "Oh  !  what  a  burning  shame  !  Must  I  then 
endure  this  in  my  old  age  ?  Have  I  then  gone  and 
acted  with  wrong  and  foolish  levity  like  some  young 
giddy  thing  ?  O  God,  are  words  let  fall  half  in  jest 
capable  of  being  stamped  with  such  an  atrocious  inter- 
pretation ?  And  am  I,  who  have  been  faithful  to 
virtue,  and  of  blameless  piety  from  my  earliest  child- 
hood until  now, — am  I  to  be  accused  of  the  crime  of 
making  such  a  diabolical  compact  ?  " 

Mademoiselle  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and 
wept  and  sobbed  bitterly,  so  that  Martiniere  and  Bap- 
tiste  were  both  of  them  confused  and  rendered  helpless 
by  embarrassed  constraint,  not  knowing  what  to  do  to 
help  their  mistress  in  her  great  trouble. 

Martiniere  picked  up  the  ominous  strip  of  paper  from 
the  floor.    Upon  it  was  written — 

"  Un  amant  qui  craint  les  voleurs 
N'est  point  digne  d' amour. 

"Your  sagacious  mind,  honoured  lady,  has  saved  us 
from  great  persecution.  We  only  exercise  the  right  of 
the  stronger  over  the  weak  and  the  cowardly  in  order 
to  appropriate  to  ourselves  treasures  that  would  else  be 
disgracefully  squandered.  Kindly  accept  these  jewels 
as  a  token  of  our  gratitude.  They  are  the  most  brilliant 
that  we  have  been  enabled  to  meet  with  for  a  long 
time  ;  and  yet  you,  honoured  lady,  ought  to  be  adorned 
with  jewellery  even  still  finer  than  this  is.  We  trust 
you  will  not  withdraw  from  us  your  friendship  and 
kind  remembrance. 

"  The  Invisibles."  1 


1  This  incident  is  not  an  invention  of  the  author's.  He  states  that 
he  got  it  from  Wagenseil's  Chronik  von  ATümberg  (1697),  the  said 
Wagenseilius  having  been  to  Paris  and  paid  a  visit  to  Mademoiselle  de 


172 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


"  Is  it  possible  ? "  exclaimed  De  Scuderi  after  she 
had  to  some  extent  recovered  herself,  "  is  it  possible 
for  men  to  carry  their  shameless  insolence,  their  god- 
less scorn,  to  such  lengths  ?  "  The  sun  shone  brightly 
through  the  dark-red  silk  window  curtains  and  made 
the  brilliants  which  lay  on  the  table  beside  the  open 
casket  to  sparkle  in  the  reddish  gleam.  Chancing  to 
cast  her  eyes  upon  them,  De  Scuderi  hid  her  face  with 
abhorrence,  and  bade  Martiniere  take  the  fearful  jew- 
ellery away  at  once,  that  very  moment,  for  the  blood 
of  the  murdered  victims  was  still  adhering  to  it. 
Martiniere  at  once  carefully  locked  the  necklace  and 
bracelets  in  the  casket  again,  and  thought  that  the 
wisest  plan  would  be  to  hand  it  over  to  the  Minister  of 
Police,  and  to  confide  to  him  everything  connected  with 
the  appearance  of  the  young  man  who  had  caused  them 
so  much  uneasiness,  and  the  way  in  which  he  had 
placed  the  casket  in  her  hands. 

De  Scuderi  rose  to  her  feet  and  slowly  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  in  silence,  as  if  she  were  only  now  re- 
flecting what  was  to  be  done.  She  then  bade  Baptiste 
fetch  a  sedan  chair,  while  Martiniere  was  to  dress  her, 
for  she  meant  to  go  straight  to  the  Marchioness  de 
Maintenon. 

She  had  herself  carried  to  the  Marchioness's  just  at 
the  hour  when  she  knew  she  should  find  that  lady  alone 
in  her  salons.  The  casket  with  the  jewellery  De 
Scuderi  also  took  with  her. 

Of  course  the  Marchioness  was  greatly  astonished  to 
see  Mademoiselle,  who  was  generally  a  pattern  of  dig- 
nity, amiability  (notwithstanding  her  advanced  age), 
and  gracefulness,  come  in  with  tottering  steps,  pale, 

Scudery  herself.  The  answer  this  lady  gave  the  king  is  also  histori- 
cally true,  according  to  Hoffmann,  and  it  was  spoken  under  circum- 
stances almost  exactly  like  those  represented  in  the  text. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD£RL  173 


and  excessively  agitated.  "  By  all  the  saints,  what's 
happened  to  you  ? "  she  cried  when  she  saw  the  poor 
troubled  lady,  who,  almost  distracted  and  hardly  able 
to  walk  erect,  hurried  to  reach  the  easy-chair  which  De 
Maintenon  pushed  towards  her.  At  length,  having  re- 
covered her  power  of  speech  somewhat,  Mademoiselle 
related  what  a  deep  insult — she  should  never  get  over 
it— her  thoughtless  jest  in  answer  to  the  petition  of  the 
jeopardised  lovers  had  brought  upon  her.  The  Mar- 
chioness, after  learning  the  whole  of  the  story  by  frag- 
ments, arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  De  Scuderi  took 
the  strange  occurrence  far  too  much  to  heart,  that  the 
mockery  of  depraved  wretches  like  these  could  never 
come  home  to  a  pious,  noble  mind  like  hers,  and  finally 
she  requested  to  see  the  ornaments. 

De  Scuderi  gave  her  the  open  casket  ;  and  the  Mar- 
chioness, on  seeing  the  costly  jewellery,  could  not  help 
uttering  a  loud  cry  of  admiration.  She  took  out  the 
necklace  and  the  bracelets,  and  approached  the  window 
with  them,  where  first  she  let  the  sun  play  upon  the 
stones,  and  then  she  held  them  up  close  to  her  eyes  in 
order  to  see  better  the  exquisite  workmanship  of  the 
gold,  and  to  admire  the  marvellous  skill  with  which 
every  little  link  in  the  elaborate  chain  was  finished. 
All  at  once  the  Marchioness  turned  round  abruptly  to- 
wards Mademoiselle  and  cried,  "  I  tell  you  what, 
Mademoiselle,  these  bracelets  and  necklace  must  have 
been  made  by  no  less  a  person  than  Rene  Cardillac." 

Rene  Cardillac  was  at  that  time  the  most  skilful  gold- 
smith in  Paris,  and  also  one  of  the  most  ingenious  as 
well  as  one  of  the  most  eccentric  men  of  the  age. 
Rather  small  than  great,  but  broad-shouldered  and 
with  a  strong  and  muscular  frame,  Cardillac,  although 
considerably  more  than  fifty,  still  possessed  the  strength 
and  activity  of  youth.    And  his  strength,  which  might 


174  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


be  said  tobe  something  above  the  common,  was  further 
evidenced  by  his  abundant  curly  reddish  hair,  and  his 
thick-set  features  and  the  sultry  gleam  upon  them. 
Had  not  Cardillac  been  known  throughout  all  Paris,  as 
one  of  the  most  honest  and  honourable  of  men,  disin- 
terested, frank,  without  any  reserve,  always  ready  to 
help,  the  very  peculiar  appearance  of  his  eyes,  which 
were  small,  deep-set,  green,  and  glittering,  might  have 
drawn  upon  him  the  suspicion  of  lurking  malice  and 
viciousness. 

As  already  said,  Cardillac  was  the  greatest  master  in 
his  trade,  not  only  in  Paris,  but  also  perhaps  of  his  age. 
Intimately  acquainted  with  the  properties  of  precious 
stones,  he  knew  how  to  treat  them  and  set  them  in  such 
a  manner  that  an  ornament  which  had  at  first  been 
looked  upon  as  wanting  in  lustre,  proceeded  out  of 
Cardillac's  shop  possessing  a  dazzling  magnificence. 
Every  commission  he  accepted  with  burning  avidity, 
and  fixed  a  price  that  seemed  to  bear  no  proportion 
whatever  to  the  work  to  be  done — so  small  was  it. 
Then  the  work  gave  him  no  rest  ;  both  night  and  day 
he  was  heard  hammering  in  his  work-shop,  and  often 
when  the  thing  was  nearly  finished  he  would  suddenly 
conceive  a  dislike  to  the  form  ;  he  had  doubts  as  to  the 
elegance  of  the  setting  of  some  or  other  of  the  jewels, 
of  a  little  link — quite  a  sufficient  reason  for  throwing 
all  into  the  crucible,  and  beginning  the  entire  work 
over  again.  Thus  every  individual  piece  of  jewellery 
that  he  turned  out  was  a  perfect  and  matchless  master- 
piece, utterly  astounding  to  the  person  who  had  given 
the  commission. 

But  it  was  now  hardly  possible  to  get  any  work  that 
was  once  finished  out  of  his  hands.  Under  a  thousand 
pretexts  he  put  off  the  owner  from  week  to  week,  and 
from  month  to  month.    It  was  all  in  vain  to  offer  him 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL  175 


double  for  the  work  ;  he  would  not  take  a  single  Louis 
d'or  1  more  than  the  price  bargained  for.  When  at  last 
he  was  obliged  to  yield  to  the  insistence  of  his  customer, 
he  could  not  help  betraying  all  the  signs  of  the  great- 
est annoyance,  nay,  of  even  fury  seething  in  his  heart. 
If  the  piece  of  work  which  he  had  to  deliver  up  was 
something  of  more  than  ordinary  importance,  especially 
anything  of  great  value,  worth  many  thousands  owing 
to  the  costliness  of  the  jewels  or  the  extreme  delicacy 
of  the  gold-work,  he  was  capable  of  running  about  like 
a  madman,  cursing  himself,  his  labour,  and  all  about 
him.  But  then  if  any  person  came  up  behind  him  and 
shouted,  "  Rene  Cardillac,  would  you  not  like  to  make 
a  beautiful  necklace  for  my  betrothed  ? — bracelets  for 
my  sweet-heart,"  or  so  forth,  he  would  suddenly  stop 
still,  and  looking  at  him  with  his  little  eyes,  would  ask, 
as  he  rubbed  his  hands,  "  Well,  what  have  you  got  ? " 
Thereupon  the  other  would  produce  a  small  jewel-case, 
and  say,  "  Oh  !  some  jewels — see  ;  they  are  nothing 

particular,  only  common  things,  but  in  your  hands  "  

Cardillac  does  not  let  him  finish  what  he  has  to  say, 
but  snatching  the  case  out  of  his  hand  takes  out  the 
stones  (which  are  in  reality  of  but  little  value)  and  holds 
them  up  to  the  light,  crying  enraptured,  "  Ho  !  ho  ! 
common  things,  are  they  ?  Not  at  all  !  Pretty  stones 
— magnificent  stones  ;  only  let  me  make  them  up  for 
you.  And  if  you're  not  squeamish  to  a  handful  or  two 
of  Louis  d'or,  I  can  add  a  few  more  little  gems,  which 
shall  sparkle  in  your  eyes  like  the  great  sun  himself." 
The  other  says,  "  I  will  leave  it  all  to  you,  Master  Rene, 
and  pay  you  what  you  like." 

Then,  without  making  any  difference  whether  his 


1  The  old  Louis  d'  Or  of  Louis  XIV.=about  £1,  os.  3d.  (Cf.  note, 
p.  281,  vol.  I.) 


176  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 

customer  is  a  rich  citizen  only  or  an  eminent  noble- 
man of  the  court,  Cardillac  throws  his  arms  impetu- 
ously round  his  neck  and  embraces  him  and  kisses  him, 
saving  that  now  he  is  quite  happy  again,  and  the  work 
will  be  finished  in  a  week's  time.  Running  off  home 
with  breathless  speed  and  up  into  his  workshop,  he 
begins  to  hammer  away,  and  at  the  week's  end  has  pro- 
duced a  masterpiece  of  art.  But  when  the  customer 
comes  prepared  to  pay  with  joy  the  insignificant  sum 
demanded,  and  expecting  to  take  the  finished  ornament 
away  with  him,  Cardillac  gets  testy,  rude,  obstinate,  and 
hard  to  deal  with.  "But,  Master  Cardillac,  recollect 
that  my  wedding  is  to-morrow." — "  But  what  have  I  to  do 
with  your  wedding  ?  come  again  in  a  fortnight's  time." 
"The  ornament  is  finished  ;  here  is  your  money;  and  I 
must  have  it."  "And  I  tell  you  that  I've  lots  of  things 
to  alter  in  it,  and  I  shan't  let  you  have  it  to-day." 
"  And  I  tell  you  that  if  you  won't  deliver  up  the  orna- 
ment by  fair  means — of  course  I  am  willing  to  pay  you 
double  for  it — you  shall  soon  see  me  march  up  with 
Argenson's  serviceable  underlings." — "Well,  then,  may 
Satan  torture  you  with  scores  of  red-hot  pincers,  and 
hang  three  hundredweight  on  the  necklace  till  it 
strangle  your  bride."  And  therewith,  thrusting  the 
jewellery  into  the  bridegroom's  breast  pocket,  Cardillac 
seizes  him  by  the  arm  and  turns  him  roughly  out  of  the 
door,  so  that  he  goes  stumbling  all  down  the  stairs. 
Then  Cardillac  puts  his  head  out  of  the  window  and 
laughs  like  a  demon  on  seeing  the  poor  young  man 
limp  out  of  the  house,  holding  his  handkerchief  to  his 
bloody  nose. 

But  one  thing  there  was  about  him  that  was  quite 
inexplicable.  Often,  after  he  had  enthusiastically  taken 
a  piece  of  work  in  hand,  he  would  implore  his  customer 
by  the  Virgin  and  all  the  saints,  with  every  sign  of 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


77 


deep  and  violent  agitation,  and  with  moving  protesta- 
tions, nay,  amidst  tears  and  sobs,  that  he  might  be  re- 
leased from  his  engagement.  Several  persons  who 
were  most  highly  esteemed  of  the  king  and  the  people 
had  vainly  offered  large  sums  of  money  to  get  the 
smallest  piece  of  work  from  him.  He  threw  himself 
at  the  king's  feet  and  besought  as  a  favour  at  his  hands 
that  he  might  not  be  asked  to  do  any  work  for  him. 
In  the  same  way  he  refused  every  commission  from 
De  Maintenon  ;  he  even  rejected  with  aversion  and 
horror  the  proposal  she  made  him  to  fabricate  for  her 
a  little  ring  with  emblematic  ornaments,  which  was  to 
be  presented  to  Racine. 

Accordingly  De  Maintenon  now  said,  "I  would  wager 
that  if  I  sent  for  Cardillac  to  come  here  to  tell  me  at 
least  for  whom  he  made  these  ornaments,  he  would  re- 
fuse to  come,  since  he  would  probably  fear  it  was  some 
commission  ;  and  he  never  will  make  anything  for  me 
on  any  account.  And  yet  he  has,  it  seems,  dropped 
something  of  his  inflexible  obstinacy  some  time  ago, 
for  I  hear  that  he  now  labours  more  industriously  than 
ever,  and  delivers  up  his  work  at  once,  though  still  not 
without  much  inward  vexation  and  turning  away  of  his 
face."  De  Scuderi,  who  was  greatly  concerned  that 
the  ornaments  should,  if  it  could  possibly  be  managed, 
come  soon  into  the  hands  of  the  proper  owner,  thought 
they  might  send  express  word  to  Master  Whimsicality 
that  they  did  not  want  him  to  do  any  work,  but  only  to 
pass  his  opinion  upon  some  jewels.  This  commended 
itself  to  the  Marchioness.  Cardillac  was  sent  for  ;  and, 
as  though  he  had  been  already  on  the  way,  after  a  brief 
interval  he  stepped  into  the  room. 

On  observing  De  Scuderi  he  appeared  to  be  embar- 
rassed ;  and,  like  one  confounded  by  something  so 
utterly  unexpected  that  he  forgets  the  claims  of  pro- 

VOL.   II.— 12 


178  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


priety  such  as  the  moment  demands,  he  first  made  a 
low  and  reverential  obeisance  to  this  venerable  lady, 
and  then  only  did  he  turn  to  the  Marchioness.  She, 
pointing  to  the  jewellery,  which  now  lay  glittering  on 
the  dark-green  table-cloth,  asked  him  hastily  if  it  was 
of  his  workmanship.  Hardly  glancing  at  it,  and  keep- 
ing his  eyes  steadily  fixed  upon  De  Maintenon,  Cardil- 
lac  hurriedly  packed  the  necklace  and  bracelets  into  the 
casket,  which  stood  beside  them,  and  pushed  it  violently 
away  from  him.  Then  he  said,  whilst  a  forbidding 
smile  gleamed  in  his  red  face,  "  By  my  honour,  noble 
lady,  he  would  have  but  a  poor  acquaintance  wTith  Rene 
Cardillac's  workmanship  who  should  believe  for  a 
single  moment  that  any  other  goldsmith  in  the  world 
could  set  a  piece  of  jewellery  like  that  is  done.  Of 
course  it's  my  handiwork."  "Then  tell  me,"  con- 
tinued the  Marchioness,  "  for  whom  you  made  these 
ornaments."  "  For  myself  alone,"  replied  Cardillac. 
"Ah!  I  dare  say  your  ladyship  finds  that  strange,"  he 
continued,  since  both  she  and  De  Scuderi  had  fixed 
their  eyes  upon  him  astounded,  the  former  full  of  mis- 
trust, the  latter  of  anxious  suspense  as  to  what  turn  the 
matter  would  take  next ;  "but  it  is  so.  Merely  out  of 
love  for  my  beautiful  handicraft  I  picked  out  all  my 
best  stones  and  gladly  set  to  work  upon  them,  exercis- 
ing more  industry  and  care  over  them  than  I  had  ever 
done  over  any  stones  before.  A  short  time  ago  the 
ornaments  disappeared  in  some  inconceivable  way  out 
of  my  workshop."  "Thank  Heaven!"  cried  De 
Scuderi,  whilst  her  eyes  sparkled  with  joy,  and  she 
jumped  up  from  her  chair  as  quick  and  nimble  as  a 
young  girl  ;  then  going  up  to  Cardillac,  she  placed 
both  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  and  said,  "  Here, 
Master  Rene,  take  your  property  back  again,  which 
these  rascally  miscreants  stole  from  you."    And  she  re- 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


179 


lated  every  detail  of  how  she  had  acquired  possession 
of  the  ornaments,  to  all  of  which  Cardillac  listened 
silently,  with  his  eyes  cast  down  upon  the  floor.  Only 
now  and  again  he  uttered  an  indistinct  "  Hm  ! — So  ! — ■ 
Ho  !  ho  ! "  now  throwing  his  hands  behind  his  back, 
and  now  softly  stroking  his  chin  and  cheeks. 

When  De  Scuderi  came  to  the  end  of  her  story,  Car- 
dillac appeared  to  be  struggling  with  some  new  and 
striking  thought  which  had  occurred  to  him  during  the 
course  of  it,  and  as  though  he  were  labouring  with 
some  rebellious  resolve  that  refused  to  conform  to  his 
wishes.  He  rubbed  his  forehead,  sighed,  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes,  as  if  to  check  tears  which  were  gushing 
from  them.  At  length  he  seized  the  casket  which  De 
Scuderi  was  holding  out  towards  him,  and  slowly  sink- 
ing upon  one  knee,  said,  "  These  jewels  have  been  de- 
creed to  you,  my  noble  and  respected  lady,  by  Destiny. 
Yes,  now  I  know  that  it  was  you  I  thought  about  when 
I  was  labouring  at  them,  and  that  it  was  for  you  I 
worked.  Do  not  disdain  to  accept  these  ornaments, 
nor  refuse  to  wear  them  ;  they  are  indeed  the  best 
things  I  have  made  for  a  very  long  time."  "  Why,  why, 
Master  Rene,"  replied  De  Scuderi,  in  a  charming,  jest- 
ing manner  ;  "what  are  you  thinking  about  ?  Would  it 
become  me  at  my  years  to  trick  myself  out  with  such 
bright  gems  ?  And  what  makes  you  think  of  giving 
me  such  an  over-rich  present  ?  Nay,  nay,  Master  Rene. 
Now  if  I  were  beautiful  like  the  Marchioness  de  Fon- 
tange,1  and  rich  too,  I  assure  you  I  should  not  let  these 
ornaments  pass  out  of  my  hands  ;  but  what  do  these 
withered  arms  want  with  vain  show,  and  this  covered 

1  One  of  Louis  XIV. 's  former  mistresses — Marie  de  Roussille, 
Duchess  de  Fontanges  (1661-1681) — is  described  as  being  of  great 
beauty,  but  deficient  in  intellectual  grace  and  charm  of  manner,  and  as 
being  arrogant  and  cold-hearted. 


i8o  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


neck  with  glittering  ornaments  ?  "  Meanwhile  Cardil- 
lac  had  risen  to  his  feet  again  ;  and  whilst  persistently- 
holding  out  the  casket  towards  De  Scuderi  he  said,  like 
one  distracted — and  his  looks  were  wild  and  uneasy, — 
"  Have  pity  upon  me,  Mademoiselle,  and  take  the  or- 
naments. You  don't  know  what  great  respect  I  cherish 
in  my  heart  for  your  virtue  and  your  high  good  quali- 
ties. Accept  this  little  present  as  an  effort  on  my  be- 
half to  show  my  deep  respect  and  devotion."  But  as 
De  Scuderi  still  continued  to  hesitate,  De  Maintenon 
took  the  casket  out  of  Cardillac's  hands,  saying,  "  Upon 
my  word,"  Mademoiselle,  you  are  always  talking  about 
your  great  age.  What  have  we,  you  and  I,  to  do  with 
years  and  their  burdens  ?  And  aren't  you  acting  just 
like  a  shy  young  thing,  who  would  only  too  well  like 
to  take  the  sweet  fruit  that  is  offered  to  her  if  she  could 
only  do  so  without  stirring  either  hand  or  finger? 
Don't  refuse  to  accept  from  our  good  Master  Rene  as  a 
free  gift  what  scores  of  others  could  never  get,  in  spite 
of  all  their  gold  and  all  their  prayers  and  entreaties." 

Whilst  speaking  De  Maintenon  had  forced  the  casket 
into  Mademoiselle's  hand  ;  and  now  Cardillac  again  fell 
upon  his  knees  and  kissed  De  Scudcri's  gown  and 
hands,  sighing  and  gasping,  weeping  and  sobbing  ;  then 
he  jumped  up  and  ran  oft  like  a  madman,  as  fast  as  he 
could  run,  upsetting  chairs  and  tables  in  his  senseless 
haste,  and  making  the  glasses  and  porcelain  tumble 
together  with  a  ring  and  jingle  and  clash. 

De  Scuderi  cried  out  quite  terrified,  "  Good  Heavens! 
what's  happened  to  the  man  ?"  But  the  Marchioness, 
who  was  now  in  an  especially  lively  mood  and  in  such 
a  pert  humour  as  was  -in  general  quite  foreign  to  her, 
burst  out  into  a  silvery  laugh,  and  said,  "  Now,  I've  got 
it,  Mademoiselle.  Master  Rene  has  fallen  desperately 
in  love  with  you,  and  according  to  the  established  form 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI 


181 


and  settled  usage  of  all  true  gallantry,  he  is  beginning 
to  storm  your  heart  with  rich  presents."  She  even 
pushed  her  raillery  further,  admonishing  De  Scuderi 
not  to  be  too  cruel  towards  her  despairing  lover,  until 
Mademoiselle,  letting  her  natural-born  humour  have 
play,  was  carried  away  by  the  bubbling  stream  of  merry 
conceits  and  fancies.  She  thought  that  if  that  was 
really  the  state  of  the  case,  she  should  be  at  last  con- 
quered and  would  not  be  able  to  help  affording  to  the 
world  the  unprecedented  example  of  a  goldsmith's 
bride,  of  untarnished  nobility,  of  the  age  of  three  and 
seventy.  De  Maintenon  offered  her  services  to  weave 
the  wedding-wreath,  and  to  instruct  her  in  the  duties 
of  a  good  house-wife,  since  such  a  snippety  bit  of  a  girl 
could  not  of  course  know  much  about  such  things. 

But  when  at  length  De  Scuderi  rose  to  say  adieu  to 
the  Marchioness,  she  again,  notwithstanding  all  their 
laughing  jests,  grew  very  grave  as  she  took  the  jewel- 
case  in  her  hand,  and  said,  "  And  yet,  Marchioness,  do 
you  know,  I  can  never  wear  these  ornaments.  What- 
ever be  their  history,  they  have  at  some  time  or  other 
been  in  the  hands  of  those  diabolical  wretches  who 
commit  robbery  and  murder  with  all  the  effrontery  of 
Satan  himself  ;  nay,  I  believe  they  must  be  in  an  unholy 
league  with  him.  I  shudder  with  awe  at  the  sight  of 
the  blood  which  appears  to  adhere  to  the  glittering 
stones.  And  then,  I  must  confess,  I  cannot  help  feel- 
ing that  there  is  something  strangely  uneasy  and  awe- 
inspiring  about  Cardillac's  behaviour.  I  cannot  get 
rid  of  the  dark  presentiment  that  behind  all  this  there 
is  lurking  some  fearful  and  terrible  secret  ;  but  when, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  pass  the  whole  matter  with  all  its 
circumstantial  adjuncts  in  clear  review  before  my  mind, 
I  cannot  even  guess  what  the  mystery  consists  in,  nor 
yet  how  our  brave  honest  Master  Rene,  the  pattern  of  a 


182 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


good  industrious  citizen,  can  have  anything  to  do  with 
what  is  bad  or  deserving  of  condemnation  ;  but  of  this 
I  am  quite  sure,  that  I  shall  never  dare  to  put  the  or- 
naments on." 

The  Marchioness  thought  that  this  was  carrying 
scruples  too  far.  But  when  De  Scuderi  asked  her  on 
her  conscience  what  she  should  really  do  in  her  (Scud- 
eri's)  place,  De  Maintenon  replied  earnestly  and  deci- 
sively, "  Far  sooner  throw  the  ornaments  into  the  Seine 
than  ever  wear  them." 

The  scene  with  Master  Rene  was  described  by  De 
Scuderi  in  charming  verses,  which  she  read  to  the  king 
on  the  following  evening  in  De  Maintenon's  salon. 
And  of  course  it  may  readily  be  conceived  that,  con- 
quering her  uncomfortable  feelings  and  forebodings  of 
evil,  she  drew  at  Master  Rene's  expense  a  diverting 
picture,  in  bright  vivacious  colours,  of  the  goldsmith's 
bride  of  three  and  seventy  who  was  of  such  ancient 
nobility.  At  any  rate  the  king  laughed  heartily,  and 
swore  that  Boileau  Despreux  had  found  his  master  ; 
hence  De  Scuderi's  poem  was  popularly  adjudged  tobe 
the  wittiest  that  ever  was  written. 

Several  months  had  passed,  when,  as  chance  would 
have  it,  De  Scuderi  was  driving  over  the  Pont  Neuf  in 
the  Duchess  de  Montansier's  glass  coach.  The  inven- 
tion of  this  elegant  class  of  vehicles  was  still  so  recent 
that  a  throng  of  the  curious  always  gathered  round  it 
when  one  appeared  in  the  streets.  And  so  there  was 
on  the  present  occasion  a  gaping  crowd  round  De  Mon- 
tansier's coach  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  so  great  as  almost  to 
hinder  the  horses  from  getting  on.  All  at  once  De 
Scuderi  heard  a  continuous  fire  of  abuse  and  cursing, 
and  perceived  a  man  making  his  way  through  the  thick 
of  the  crowd  by  the  help  of  his  fists  and  by  punching 
people  in  the  ribs.    And  when  he  came  nearer  she  saw 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD£RL 


that  his  piercing  eyes  were  riveted  upon  her.  His  face 
was  pale  as  death  and  distorted  by  pain  ;  and  he  kept 
his  eyes  riveted  upon  her  all  the  time  he  was  energeti- 
cally working  his  way  onwards  with  his  fists  and  elbows, 
until  he  reached  the  door.  Pulling  it  open  with  impet- 
uous violence,  he  threw  a  strip  of  paper  into  De  Scu- 
deri's  lap,  and  again  dealing  out  and  receiving  blows  and 
punches,  disappeared  as  he  had  come.  Martiniere,  who 
was  accompanying  her  mistress,  uttered  a  scream  of 
terror  when  she  saw  the  man  appear  at  the  coach  door, 
and  fell  back  upon  the  cushions  in  a  swoon.  De  Scud- 
£ri  vainly  pulled  the  cord  and  called  out  to  the  driver ; 
he,  as  if  impelled  by  the  foul  Fiend,  whipped  up  his 
horses,  so  that  they  foamed  at  the  mouth  and  tossed 
their  heads,  and  kicked  and  plunged,  and  finally  thun- 
dered over  the  bridge  at  a  sharp  trot.  De  Scuderi 
emptied  her  smelling-bottle  over  the  insensible  woman, 
who  at  length  opened  her  eyes.  Trembling  and  shaking, 
she  clung  convulsively  to  her  mistress,  her  face  pale 
with  anxiety  and  terror  as  she  gasped  out,  "  For  the 
love  of  the  Virgin,  what  did  that  terrible  man  want  ? 
Oh  !  yes,  it  was  he  !  it  was  he  ! — the  very  same  who 
brought  you  the  casket  that  awful  night."  Mademoiselle 
pacified  the  poor  woman,  assuring  her  that  not  the 
least  mischief  had  been  done,  and  that  the  main  thing 
to  do  just  then  was  to  see  what  the  strip  of  paper  con- 
tained.   She  unfolded  it  and  found  these  words — 

"  I  am  being  plunged  into  the  pit  of  destruction  by 
an  evil  destiny  which  you  may  avert.  I  implore  you, 
as  the  son  does  the  mother  whom  he  cannot  leave,  and 
with  the  warmest  affection  of  a  loving  child,  send 
the  necklace  and  bracelets  which  you  received  from 
me  to  Master  Rene  Cardillac  ;  any  pretext  will  do,  to 
get  some  improvement  made — or  to  get  something 


1 84  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


altered.  Your  welfare,  your  life,  depend  upon  it.  If 
you  have  not  done  so  by  the  day  after  to-morrow  I 
will  force  my  way  into  your  dwelling  and  kill  myself 
before  your  eyes." 

"Well  now,  it  is  at  any  rate  certain,"  said  De 
Scuderi  when  she  had  read  it,  "  that  this  mysterious 
man,  even  if  he  does  really  belong  to  the  notorious 
band  of  thieves  and  robbers,  yet  has  no  evil  designs 
against  me.  If  he  had  succeeded  in  speaking  to  me 
that  night,  who  knows  whether  I  should  not  have  learnt 
of  some  singular  event  or  some  mysterious  complication 
of  things,  respecting  which  I  now  try  in  vain  to  form 
even  the  remotest  guess.  But  let  the  matter  now  take 
what  shape  it  may,  I  shall  certainly  do  what  this  note 
urgently  requests  me  to  do,  if  for  no  other  reason  than 
to  get  rid  of  those  ill-starred  jewels,  which  I  always 
fancy  are  a  talisman  of  the  foul  Fiend  himself.  And 
I  warrant  Cardillac,  true  to  his  rooted  habit,  won't  let 
it  pass  out  of  his  hands  again  so  easily." 

The  very  next  day  De  Scuderi  intended  to  go  and 
take  the  jewellery  to  the  goldsmith's.  But  somehow 
it  seemed  as  if  all  the  wits  and  intellects  of  entire  Paris 
had  conspired  together  to  overwhelm  Mademoiselle  just 
on  this  particular  morning  with  their  verses  and  plays 
and  anecdotes.  No  sooner  had  La  Chapelle  1  finished 
reading  a  tragedy,  and  had  slyly  remarked  with  some 
degree  of  confident  assurance  that  he  should  now  cer- 
tainly beat  Racine,  than  the  latter  poet  himself  came 
in,  and  routed  him  with  a  pathetic  speech  of  a  certain 
king,  until  Boileau  appeared  to  let  off  the  rockets  of 
his  wit  into  this  black  sky  of  Tragedy — in  order  that 

1  Jean  de  la  Chapelle  (1655-1723)  attempted  to  fill  the  gap  left  in 
the  diamatic  world  by  Racine's  retirement  from  play- writing,  though, 
it  is  said,  with  but  indifferent  success. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL  185 


he  might  not  be  talked  to  death  on  the  subject  of  the 
colonnade  1  of  the  Louvre,  for  he  had  been  penned  up 
in  it  by  Dr.  Perrault,  the  architect. 

It  was  high  noon  ;  De  Scuderi  had  to  go  to  the 
Duchess  de  Montansier's  ;  and  so  the  visit  to  Master 
Rene  Cardillac's  was  put  off  until  the  next  day. 
Mademoiselle,  however,  was  tormented  by  a  most 
extraordinary  feeling  of  uneasiness.  The  young  man's 
figure  was  constantly  before  her  eyes  ;  and  deep  down 
in  her  memory  there  was  stirring  a  dim  recollection 
that  she  had  seen  his  face  and  features  somewhere 
before.  Her  sleep,  which  was  of  the  lightest,  was 
disturbed  by  troublesome  dreams.  She  fancied  she 
had  acted  frivolously  and  even  criminally  in  having 
delayed  to  grasp  the  hand  which  the  unhappy  wretch, 
who  was  sinking  into  the  abyss  of  ruin,  was  stretching 
up  towards  her  ;  nay,  she  was  even  haunted  by  the 
thought  that  she  had  had  it  in  her  power  to  prevent  a 
fatal  event  from  taking  place  or  an  enormous  crime 
from  being  committed.  So,  as  soon  as  the  morning 
was  fully  come,  she  had  Martiniere  finish  her  toilet, 
and  drove  to  the  goldsmith,  taking  the  jewel-casket 
with  her. 

The  people  were  pouring  into  the  Rue  Nicaise,  to 
the  house  where  Cardillac  lived,  and  were  gathering 
about  his  door,  shouting,  screaming,  and  creating  a 
wild  tumult  of  noise  ;  and  they  were  with  difficulty 
prevented  by  the  Marechmtssee,  who  had  drawn  a 
cordon  round  the  house,  from  forcing  their  way  in. 
Angry  voices  were  crying  in  a  wild  confused  hubbub, 
"  Tear  him  to  pieces  !  pound  him  to  dust  !  the  accursed 
murderer  !  "  At  length  Desgrais  appeared  on  the  scene 
with  a  strong  body  of  police,  who  formed  a  passage 


It  was  constructed  after  plans  by  this  Claude  Perrault  in  1666-1670. 


1 86  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


through  the  heart  of  the  crowd.  The  house  door  flew 
open  and  a  man  stepped  out  loaded  with  chains  ;  and 
he  was  dragged  away  amidst  the  most  horrible  impre- 
cations of  the  furious  mob. 

At  the  moment  that  De  Scuderi,  who  was  half 
swooning  from  fright  and  her  apprehensions  that 
something  terrible  had  happened,  was  witness  of  this 
scene,  a  shrill  piercing  scream  of  distress  rang  upon 
her  ears.  "  Go  on,  go  on,  right  forward,"  she  cried 
to  her  coachman,  almost  distracted.  Scattering  the 
dense  mass  of  people  by  a  quick  clever  turn  of  his 
horses,  he  pulled  up  immediately  in  front  of  Cardillac's 
door.  There  De  Scuderi  observed  Desgrais,  and  at  his 
feet  a  young  girl,  as  beautiful  as  the  day,  with  di- 
shevelled hair,  only  half  dressed,  and  her  countenance 
stamped  with  desperate  anxiety  and  wild  with  despair. 
She  was  clasping  his  knees  and  crying  in  a  tone  of  the 
most  terrible,  the  most  heart-rending  anguish,  "  Oh  !  he 
is  innocent !  he  is  innocent."  In  vain  were  Desgrais' 
efforts,  as  well  as  those  of  his  men,  to  make  her  leave 
hold  and  to  raise  her  up  from  the  floor.  At  last  a 
strong  brutal  fellow  laid  his  coarse  rough  hands  upon 
the  poor  girl  and  dragged  her  away  from  Desgrais  by 
main  force,  but  awkwardly  stumbling  let  her  drop,  so 
that  she  rolled  down  the  stone  steps  and  lay  in  the 
street,  without  uttering  a  single  sound  more  ;  she 
appeared  to  be  dead. 

Mademoiselle  could  no  longer  contain  herself.  "  For 
God's  sake,  what  has  happened  ?  What's  all  this 
about?"  she  cried  as  she  quickly  opened  the  door  of 
her  coach  and  stepped  out.  The  crowd  respectfully 
made  way  for  the  estimable  lady.  She,  on  perceiving 
that  two  or  three  compassionate  women  had  raised  up 
the  girl  and  set  her  on  the  steps,  where  they  were 
rubbing  her  forehead  with  aromatic  waters,  approached 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL  187 


Desgrais  and  repeated  her  question  with  vehemence. 
"A  horrible  thing  has  happened,"  said  Desgrais. 
"  Rene  Cardillac  was  found  this  morning  murdered, 
stabbed  to  the  heart  with  a  dagger.  His  journeyman 
Olivier  Brusson  is  the  murderer.  That  was  he  who 
was  just  led  away  to  prison."  "And  the  girl?"  ex- 
claimed Mademoiselle   "  Is  Madelon,  Cardillac's 

daughter,"  broke  in  Desgrais.  "  Yon  abandoned 
wretch  is  her  lover.  And  she's  screaming  and  crying, 
and  protesting  that  Olivier  is  innocent,  quite  innocent. 
But  the  real  truth  is  she  is  cognisant  of  the  deed, 
and  I  must  have  her  also  taken  to  the  conciergerie 
(prison)." 

Saying  which,  Desgrais  cast  a  glance  of  such  spiteful 
malicious  triumph  upon  the  girl  that  De  Scuderi 
trembled.  Madelon  was  just  beginning  to  breathe 
again,  but  she  still  lay  with  her  eyes  closed  incapable 
of  either  sound  or  motion  ;  and  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do,  whether  to  take  her  into  the  house  or 
to  stay  with  her  longer  until  she  came  round  again. 
Mademoiselle's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  was 
greatly  agitated,  as  she  looked  upon  the  innocent 
angel  ;  Desgrais  and  his  myrmidons  made  her  shudder. 
Downstairs  came  a  heavy  rumbling  noise  ;  they  were 
bringing  down  Cardillac's  corpse.  Quickly  making 
up  her  mind,  De  Scuderi  said  loudly,  "  I  will  take  the 
girl  with  me  ;  you  may  attend  to  everything  else, 
Desgrais."  A  muttered  wave  of  applause  swept 
through  the  crowd.  They  lifted  up  the  girl,  whilst 
everybody  crowded  round  and  hundreds  of  arms  were 
proffered  to  assist  them  ;  like  one  floating  in  the  air 
the  young  girl  was  carried  to  the  coach  and  placed 
within  it, — blessings  being  showered  from  the  lips  of 
all  upon  the  noble  lady  who  had  come  to  snatch  inno- 
cence from  the  scaffold. 


1 88  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SC.UDÜRL 


The  efforts  of  Seron,  the  most  celebrated  physician 
in  Paris,  to  bring  Madelon  back  to  herself  were  at 
length  crowned  with  success,  for  she  had  lain  for  hours 
in  a  dead  swoon,  utterly  unconscious.  What  the 
physician  began  was  completed  by  De  Scuderi,  who 
strove  to  excite  the  mild  rays  of  hope  in  the  girl's  soul, 
till  at  length  relief  came  to  her  in  the  form  of  a  violent 
fit  of  tears  and  sobbing.  She  managed  to  relate  all 
that  had  happened,  although  from  time  to  time  her 
heart-rending  grief  got  the  upper  hand,  and  her  voice 
was  choked  with  convulsive  sobs. 

About  midnight  she  had  been  awakened  by  a  light 
tap  at  her  chamber  door,  and  heard  Olivier's  voice 
imploring  her  to  get  up  at  once,  as  her  father  was 
dying.  Though  almost  stunned  with  dismay,  she 
started  up  and  opened  the  door,  and  saw  Olivier  with 
a  light  in  his  hand,  pale  and  dreadfully  agitated,  and 
dripping  with  perspiration.  He  led  the  way  into  her 
father's  workshop,  with  an  unsteady  gait,  and  she 
followed  him.  There  lay  her  father  with  fixed  staring 
eyes,  his  throat  rattling  in  the  agonies  of  death. 
With  a  loud  wail  she  threw  herself  upon  him,  and  then 
first  noticed  his  bloody  shirt.  Olivier  softly  drew  her 
away  and  set  to  work  to  wash  a  wound  in  her  father's 
left  breast  with  a  traumatic  balsam,  and  to  bind  it  up. 
During  this  operation  her  father's  senses  came  back  to 
him  ;  his  throat  ceased  to  rattle  ;  and  he  bent,  first 
upon  her  and  then  upon  Olivier,  a  glance  full  of 
feeling,  took  her  hand,  and  placed  it  in  Olivier's,  fer- 
vently pressing  them  together.  She  and  Olivier  both 
fell  upon  their  knees  beside  her  father's  bed  ;  he  raised 
himself  up  with  a  cry  of  agony,  but  at  once  sank  back 
again,  and  in  a  deep  sigh  breathed  his  last.  Then  they 
both  gave  way  to  their  grief  and  sorrow,  and  wept 
aloud. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


189 


Olivier  related  how  during  a  walk,  on  which  he  had 
been  commanded  by  his  master  to  attend  him,  the 
latter  had  been  murdered  in  his  presence,  and  how 
through  the  greatest  exertions  he  had  carried  the 
heavy  man  home,  whom  he  did  not  believe  to  have 
been  fatally  wounded. 

When  morning  dawned  the  people  of  the  house,  who 
had  heard  the  lumbering  noises,  and  the  loud  weeping 
and  lamenting  during  the  night,  came  up  and  found 
them  still  kneeling  in  helpless  trouble  by  her  father's 
corpse.  An  alarm  was  raised  ;  the  Marechaussee  made 
their  way  into  the  house,  and  dragged  off  Olivier  to 
prison  as  the  murderer  of  his  master.  Madelon  added 
the  most  touching  description  of  her  beloved  Olivier's 
goodness,  and  steady  industry,  and  faithfulness.  He 
had  honoured  his  master  highly,  as  though  he  had  been 
his  own  father  ;  and  the  latter  had  fully  reciprocated 
this  affection,  and  had  chosen  Brusson,  in  spite  of  his 
poverty,  to  be  his  son-in-lawT,  since  his  skill  was  equal 
to  his  faithfulness  and  the  nobleness  of  his  character. 
All  this  the  girl  related  with  deep,  true,  heart-felt  emo- 
tion ;  and  she  concluded  by  saying  that  if  Olivier  had 
thrust  his  dagger  into  her  father's  breast  in  her  own 
presence  she  should  take  it  for  some  illusion  caused  by 
Satan,  rather  than  believe  that  Olivier  could  be  capable 
of  such  a  horrible  wicked  crime. 

De  Scuderi,  most  deeply  moved  by  Madelon's  un- 
utterable sufferings,  and  quite  ready  to  regard  poor 
Olivier  as  innocent,  instituted  inquiries,  and  she  found 
that  all  Madelon  had  said  about  the  intimate  terms  on 
which  master  and  journeyman  had  lived  was  fully  con- 
firmed. The  people  in  the  same  house,  as  well  as 
the  neighbours,  unanimously  agreed  in  commending 
Olivier  as  a  pattern  of  goodness,  morality,  faithfulness, 
and  industry  ;  nobody  knew  anything  evil  about  him, 


I90  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDÜRL 


and  yet  when  mention  was  made  of  his  heinous  deed, 
they  all  shrugged  their  shoulders  and  thought  there 
was  something  passing  comprehension  in  it. 

Olivier,  on  being  arraigned  before  the  Chambre  Ar- 
dente,  denied  the  deed  imputed  to  him,  as  Mademoiselle 
learned,  with  the  most  steadfast  firmness  and  with  hon- 
est sincerity,  maintaining  that  his  master  had  been  at- 
tacked in  the  street  in  his  presence  and  stabbed,  that 
then,  as  there  were  still  signs  of  life  in  him,  he  had 
himself  carried  him  home,  where  Cardillac  had  soon 
afterwards  expired.  And  all  this  too  harmonised  with 
Madelon's  account. 

Again  and  again  and  again  De  Scuderi  had  the  mi- 
nutest details  of  the  terrible  event  repeated  to  her.  She 
inquired  minutely  whether  there  had  ever  been  a  quar- 
rel between  master  and  journeyman,  whether  Olivier 
was  perhaps  not  subject  occasionally  to  those  hasty 
fits  of  passion  which  often  attack  even  the  most  good- 
natured  of  men  like  a  blind  madness,  impelling  the 
commission  of  deeds  which  appear  to  be  done  quite  in- 
dependent of  voluntary  action.  But  in  proportion  as 
Madelon  spoke  with  increasing  heartfelt  warmth  of  the 
quiet  domestic  happiness  in  which  the  three  had  lived, 
united  by  the  closest  ties  of  affection,  every  shadow  of 
suspicion  against  poor  Olivier,  now  being  tried  for  his 
life,  vanished  away.  Scrupulously  weighing  every 
point  and  starting  with  the  assumption  that  Olivier,  in 
spite  of  all  the  things  which  spoke  so  loudly  for  his  in- 
nocence, was  nevertheless  Cardillac's  murderer,  De 
Scuderi  did  not  find  any  motive  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  for  the  hideous  deed  ;  for  from  every  point 
of  view  it  would  necessarily  destroy  his  happiness.  He 
is  poor  but  clever.  He  has  succeeded  in  gaining  the 
good-will  of  the  most  renowned  master  of  his  trade  ;  he 
loves  his  master's  daughter  ;  his  master  looks  upon  his 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


191 


love  with  a  favourable  eye  ;  happiness  and  prosperity 
seem  likely  to  be  his  lot  through  life.  But  now  sup- 
pose that,  provoked  in  some  way  that  God  alone  may 
know,  Olivier  had  been  so  overmastered  by  anger  as  to 
make  a  murderous  attempt  upon  his  benefactor,  his 
father,  what  diabolical  hypocrisy  he  must  have  prac- 
tised to  have  behaved  after  the  deed  in  the  way  in 
which  he  really  did  behave.  Firmly  convinced  of 
Olivier's  innocence,  Mademoiselle  made  up  her  mind 
to  save  the  unhappy  young  man  at  no  matter  what  cost. 

Before  appealing,  however,  to  the  king's  mercy,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  the  most  advisable  step  to  take 
would  be  to  call  upon  La  Regnie,  and  direct  his  at- 
tention to  all  the  circumstances  that  could  not  fail  to 
speak  for  Olivier's  innocence,  and  so  perhaps  awaken 
in  the  President's  mind  a  feeling  of  interest  favourable 
to  the  accused,  which  might  then  communicate  itself  to 
the  judges  with  beneficial  results. 

La  Regnie  received  De  Scuderi  with  all  the  great 
respect  to  which  the  venerable  lady,  highly  honoured 
as  she  was  by  the  king  himself,  might  justly  lay  claim. 
He  listened  quietly  to  all  that  she  had  to  adduce  with 
respect  to  the  terrible  crime,  and  Olivier's  relations 
to  the  victim  and  his  daughter,  and  his  character. 
Nevertheless  the  only  proof  he  gave  that  her  words 
were  not  falling  upon  totally  deaf  ears  was  a  slight 
and  well-nigh  mocking  smile  ;  and  in  the  same  way  he 
heard  her  protestations  and  admonitions,  which  were 
frequently  interrupted  by  tears,  that  the  judge  was 
not  the  enemy  of  the  accused,  but  must  also  duly  give 
heed  to  anything  that  spoke  in  his  favour.  When  at 
length  Mademoiselle  paused,  quite  exhausted,  and 
dried  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  La  Regnie  began,  "  It 
does  honour  to  the  excellence  of  your  heart,  Madem- 
oiselle, that,  being  moved  by  the  tears  of  a  young  love- 


193 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


sick  girl,  you  believe  everything  she  tells  you,  and 
none  the  less  so  that  you  are  incapable  of  conceiving 
the  thought  of  such  an  atrocious  deed  ;  but  not  so  is 
it  with  the  judge,  who  is  wont  to  rend  asunder  the  mask 
of  brazen  hypocrisy.  Of  course  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  it  is  not  part  of  my  office  to  unfold  to  every  one 
who  asks  me  the  various  stages  of  a  criminal  trial. 
Mademoiselle,  I  do  my  duty  and  trouble  myself  little 
about  the  judgment  of  the  world.  All  miscreants  shall 
tremble  before  the  Chambre  Ardente,  which  knows  no 
other  punishment  except  the  scaffold  and  the  stake. 
But  since  I  do  not  wish  you,  respected  lady,  to  con- 
ceive of  me  as  a  monster  of  hard-heartedness  and 
cruelty,  suffer  me  in  a  few  words  to  put  clearly  before 
you  the  guilt  of  this  young  reprobate,  who,  thank 
Heaven,  has  been  overtaken  by  the  avenging  arm  of 
justice.  Your  sagacious  mind  will  then  bid  you  look 
with  scorn  upon  your  own  good  kindness,  which  does 
you  so  much  honour,  but  which  would  never  under  any 
circumstances  be  fitting  in  me. 

"Well  then!  Rene  Cardillac  is  found  in  the  morn- 
ing stabbed  to  the  heart  with  a  dagger.  The  only 
persons  with  him  are  his  journeyman  Olivier  Brusson 
and  his  own  daughter.  In  Olivier's  room,  amongst 
other  things,  is  found  a  dagger  covered  with  blood, 
still  fresh,  which  dagger  fits  exactly  into  the  wound. 
Olivier  says,  'Cardillac  was  cut  down  at  night  before 
my  eyes.'  '  Somebody  attempted  to  rob  him  ? '  'I 
don't  know.'  'You  say  you  went  with  him,  how  then 
were  you  not  able  to  keep  off  the  murderer,  or  hold 
him  fast,  or  cry  out  for  help  ? '  '  My  master  walked 
fifteen,  nay,  fully  twenty  paces  in  front  of  me,  and  I 
followed  him.'  'But  why,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  at 
such  a  distance?'  'My  master  would  have  it  so.' 
'  But  tell  us  then  what  Master  Cardillac  was  doing 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI.  193 


out  in  the  streets  at  so  late  an  hour  ? '  1  That  I  cannot 
say.'  '  But  you  have  never  before  known  him  to  leave 
the  house  after  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  have  you  ? ' 
Here  Olivier  falters  ;  he  is  confused  ;  he  sighs  ;  he 
bursts  into  tears  ;  he  protests  by  all  that  is  holy  that 
Cardillac  really  went  out  on  the  night  in  question,  and 
then  met  with  his  death.  But  now  your  particular 
attention,  please,  Mademoiselle.  It  has  been  proved 
to  absolute  certainty  that  Cardillac  never  left  the 
house  that  night,  and  so,  of  course,  Olivier's  assertion 
that  he  went  out  with  him  is  an  impudent  lie.  The 
house  door  is  provided  with  a  ponderous  lock,  which 
on  locking  and  unlocking  makes  a  loud  grating  echo- 
ing noise  ;  moreover,  the  wings  of  the  door  squeak 
and  creak  horribly  on  their  hinges,  so  that,  as  we  have 
proved  by  repeated  experiments,  the  noise  is  heard  all 
the  way  up  to  the  garrets.  Now  in  the  bottom  story, 
and  so  of  course  close  to  the  street  door,  lives  old 
Master  Claude  Patru  and  his  housekeeper,  a  person  of 
nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  but  still  lively  and  nimble. 
Now  these  two  people  heard  Cardillac  come  downstairs 
punctually  at  nine  o'clock  that  evening,  according  to 
his  usual  practice,  and  lock  and  bolt  the  door  with 
considerable  noise,  and  then  go  up  again,  where  they 
further  heard  him  read  the  evening  prayers  aloud,  and 
then,  to  judge  by  the  banging  of  doors,  go  to  his  own 
sleeping-chamber.  Master  Claude,  like  many  old 
people,  suffers  from  sleeplessness  ;  and  that  night  too 
he  could  not  close  an  eye.  And  so,  somewhere  about 
half-past  nine  it  seems,  his  old  housekeeper  went  into 
the  kitchen  (to  get  into  which  she  had  to  cross  the 
passage)  for  a  light,  and  then  came  and  sat  down  at 
the  table  beside  Master  Claude  with  an  old  Chronicle, 
out  of  which  she  read  ;  whilst  the  old  man,  following 
the  train  of  his  thoughts,  first  sat  down  in  his  easy- 
Vol.  II. — 13 


i94 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


chair,  and  then  stood  up  again,  and  paced  softly  and 
slowly  up  and  down  the  room  in  order  to  bring  on 
weariness  and  sleepiness.  All  remained  quiet  and 
still  until  after  midnight.  Then  they  heard  quick 
steps  above  them  and  a  heavy  fall  like  some  big  weight 
being  thrown  on  the  floor,  and  then  soon  after  a 
muffled  groaning.  A  peculiar  feeling  of  uneasiness 
and  dreadful  suspense  took  possession  of  them  both. 
It  was  horror  at  the  bloody  deed  which  had  just  been 
committed,  which  passed  out  beside  them.  The  bright 
morning  came  and  revealed  to  the  light  what  had  been 
begun  in  the  hours  of  darkness." 

"  But,"  interrupted  De  Scuderi,  "but  by  all  the  saints, 
tell  me  what  motive  for  this  diabolical  deed  you  can 
find  in  any  of  the  circumstances  which  I  just  now 
repeated  to  you  at  such  length?"  "Hm!"  rejoined 
La  Regnie,  "  Cardillac  was  not  poor — he  had  some 
valuable  stones  in  his  possession."  "  But  would  not  his 
daughter  inherit  everything  ? "  continued  De  Scuderi. 
"  You  are  forgetting  that  Olivier  was  to  be  Cardillac's 
son-in-law."  "  But  perhaps  he  had  to  share  or  only 
do  the  murderous  deed  for  others,"  said  La  Regnie. 
"  Share  ?  do  a  murderous  deed  for  others  ? "  asked  De 
Scuderi,  utterly  astounded.  "  I  must  tell  you,  Mad- 
emoiselle," continued  the  President,  "that  Olivier's 
blood  would  long  ago  have  been  shed  in  the  Place 
Greve,  had  not  his  crime  been  bound  up  with  that 
deeply  enshrouded  mystery  which  has  hitherto  exer- 
cised such  a  threatening  sway  over  all  Paris.  It  is 
evident  that  Olivier  belongs  to  that  accursed  band  of 
miscreants  who,  laughing  to  scorn  all  the  watchfulness, 
and  efforts,  and  strict  investigations  of  the  courts,  have 
been  able  to  carry  out  their  plans  so  safely  and  unpun- 
ished. Through  him  all  shall — all  must  be  cleared  up. 
Cardillac's  wound  is  precisely  similar  to  those  borne 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDS!?!. 


195 


by  all  the  persons  who  have  been  found  murdered  and 
robbed  in  the  streets  and  houses.  But  the  most  decisive 
fact  is  that  since  the  time  Olivier  Brusson  has  been 
under  arrest  all  these  murders  and  robberies  have 
ceased.  The  streets  are  now  as  safe  by  night  as  they 
are  by  day.  These  things  are  proof  enough  that  Olivier 
probably  was  at  the  head  of  this  band  of  assassins.  As 
yet  he  will  not  confess  it  ;  but  there  are  means  of 
making  him  speak  against  his  will."  "And  Madelon," 
exclaimed  De  Scuderi,  "and  Madelon,  the  faithful, 
innocent  dove  !  "  "  Oh  !  "  said  La  Regnie,  with  a  ven- 
omous smile,  "  Oh  !  but  who  will  answer  to  me  for  it 
that  she  also  is  not  an  accomplice  in  the  plot  ?  What 
does  she  care  about  her  father's  death  ?  Her  tears  are 
only  shed  for  this  murderous  rascal."  "What  do  you 
say?"  screamed  De  Scuderi;  "it  cannot  possibly  be. 
Her  father — this  girl  !  "  "  Oh  !  "  went  on  La  Regnie, 
"  Oh,  but  pray  recollect  De  Brinvillier.  You  will  be 
so  good  as  to  pardon  me  if  I  perhaps  soon  find  myself 
compelled  to  take  your  favourite  from  your  protection, 
and  have  her  cast  into  the  Conciergerie." 

This  terrible  suspicion  made  Mademoiselle  shudder. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  no  faithfulness,  no  virtue,  could 
stand  fast  before  this  fearful  man  ;  he  seemed  to  espy 
murder  and  blood-guiltiness  in  the  deepest  and  most 
secret  thoughts.  She  rose  to  go.  "  Be  human  !  "  was 
all  that  she  could  stammer  out  in  her  distress,  and  she 
had  difficulty  in  breathing.  Just  on  the  point  of  going 
down  the  stairs,  to  the  top  of  which  the  President  had 
accompanied  her  with  ceremonious  courtesy,  she  was 
suddenly  struck  by  a  strange  thought,  at  which  she 
herself  was  surprised.  "And  could  I  be  allowed  to  see 
this  unhappy  Olivier  Brusson?"  she  asked,  turning 
round  quickly  to  the  President.  He,  however,  looked 
at  her  somewhat  suspiciously,  but  his  face  was  soon 


196  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


contracted  into  the  forbidding  smile  so  characteristic 
of  him.  "Of  course,  honoured  lady,"  said  he,  "relying 
upon  your  feelings  and  the  little  voice  within  you 
more  than  upon  what  has  taken  place  before  our  very 
eyes,  you  will  yourself  prove  Olivier's  guilt  or  inno- 
cence, I  perceive.  If  you  are  not  afraid  to  see  the 
dark  abodes  of  crime,  and  if  you  think  there  will  be 
nothing  too  revolting  in  looking  upon  pictures  of 
depravity  in  all  its  stages,  then  the  doors  of  the  Con- 
ciergerie  shall  be  opened  to  you  in  two  hours  from 
now.  You  shall  have  this  Olivier,  whose  fate  excites 
your  interest  so  much,  presented  to  you." 

To  tell  the  truth,  De  Scuderi  could  by  no  means  con- 
vince herself  of  the  young  man's  guilt.  Although  every- 
thing spoke  against  him,  and  no  judge  in  the  world 
could  have  acted  differently  from  what  La  Regnie  did 
in  face  of  such  conclusive  circumstantial  evidence,  yet 
all  these  base  suspicions  were  completely  outweighed 
by  the  picture  of  domestic  happiness  which  Madelon 
had  painted  for  her  in  such  warm  lifelike  colours  ;  and 
hence  she  would  rather  adopt  the  idea  of  some  unac- 
countable mystery  than  believe  in  the  truth  of  that  at 
which  her  inmost  heart  revolted. 

She  was  thinking  that  she  would  get  Olivier  to  repeat 
once  more  all  the  events  of  that  ill-omened  night  and 
worm  her  way  as  much  as  possible  into  any  secret  there 
might  be  which  remained  sealed  to  the  judges,  since  for 
their  purposes  it  did  not  seem  worth  while  to  give 
themselves  any  further  trouble  about  the  matter. 

On  arriving  at  the  Conciergerie,  De  Scuderi  was  led 
into  a  large  light  apartment.  She  had  not  long  to  wait 
before  she  heard  the  rattle  of  chains.  Olivier  Brusson 
was  brought  in.  But  the  moment  he  appeared  in  the 
doorway  De  Scuderi  sank  on  the  floor  fainting.  When 
she  recovered,  Olivier  had  disappeared.  She  demanded 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


197 


impetuously  that  she  should  be  taken  to  her  carriage  ; 
she  would  go — go  at  once,  that  very  moment,  from  the 
apartments  of  wickedness  and  infamy.  For  oh  !  at  the 
very  first  glance  she  had  recognised  in  Olivier  Brusson 
the  young  man  who  had  thrown  the  note  into  the  car- 
riage on  the  Pont  Neuf,  and  who  had  brought  her  the 
casket  and  the  jewels.  Now  all  doubts  were  at  an  end  ; 
La  Regnie's  horrible  suspicion  was  fully  confirmed. 
Olivier  Brusson  belonged  to  the  atrocious  band  of 
assassins  ;  undoubtedly  he  murdered  his  master.  And 
Madelon  ?  Never  before  had  Mademoiselle  been  so 
bitterly  deceived  by  the  deepest  promptings  of  her 
heart  ;  and  now,  shaken  to  the  very  depths  of  her  soul 
by  the  discovery  of  a  power  of  evil  on  earth  in  the 
existence  of  which  she  had  not  hitherto  believed,  she 
began  to  despair  of  all  truth.  She  allowed  the  hideous 
suspicion  to  enter  her  mind  that  Madelon  was  involved 
in  the  complot,  and  might  have  had  a  hand  in  the 
infamous  deed  of  blood.  As  is  frequently  the  case  with 
the  human  mind,  that,  once  it  has  laid  hold  upon  an 
idea,  it  diligently  seeks  for  colours,  until  it  finds  them, 
with  which  to  deck  out  the  picture  in  tints  ever  more 
vivid  and  ever  more  glaring  ;  so  also  De  Scuderi,  on 
reflecting  again  upon  all  the  circumstances  of  the  deed, 
as  well  as  upon  the  minutest  features  in  Madelon's  be- 
haviour, found  many  things  to  strengthen  her  suspicion. 
And  many  points  which  hitherto  she  had  regarded  as 
a  proof  of  innocence  and  purity  now  presented  them- 
selves as  undeniable  tokens  of  abominable  wickedness 
and  studied  hypocrisy.  Madelon's  heartrending  ex- 
pressions of  trouble,  and  her  floods  of  piteous  tears, 
might  very  well  have  been  forced  from  her,  not  so 
much  from  fear  of  seeing  her  lover  perish  on  the  scaf- 
fold, as  of  falling  herself  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner. 
To  get  rid  at  once  of  the  serpent  she  was  nourishing  in 


193  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


her  bosom,  this  was  the  determination  with  which 
Mademoiselle  got  out  of  her  carriage. 

When  she  entered  her  room,  Madelon  threw  herself 
at  her  feet.  With  her  lovely  eyes — none  of  God's 
angels  had  truer — directed  heavenwards,  and  witli  her 
hands  folded  upon  her  heaving  bosom,  she  wept  and 
wailed,  craving  help  and  consolation.  Controlling  her- 
self by  a  painful  effort,  De  Scuderi,  whilst  endeavour- 
ing to  impart  as  much  earnestness  and  calmness  as  she 
possibly  could  to  the  tone  in  which  she  spoke,  said, 
"Go — go  —  comfort  yourself  with  the  thought  that 
righteous  punishment  will  overtake  yon  murderer  for 
his  villainous  deeds.  May  the  Holy  Virgin  forbid  that 
you  yourself  come  to  labour  under  the  heavy  burden  of 
blood-guiltiness."  "Oh!  all  hope  is  now  lost !  "  cried 
Madelon,  with  a  piercing  shriek,  as  she  reeled  to  the 
floor  senseless.  Leaving  La  Martiniere  to  attend  to  the 
girl,  Mademoiselle  withdrew  into  another  room. 

De  Scuderi's  heart  was  torn  and  bleeding  ;  she  felt 
herself  at  variance  with  all  mankind,  and  no  longer 
wished  to  live  in  a  world  so  full  of  diabolical  deceit. 
She  reproached  Destiny  which  in  bitter  mockery  had 
so  many  years  suffered  her  to  go  on  strengthening  her 
belief  in  virtue  and  truth,  only  to  destroy  now  in  her 
old  age  the  beautiful  images  which  had  been  her  guid- 
ing-stars through  life. 

She  heard  Martiniere  lead  away  Madelon,  who  was 
sighing  softly  and  lamenting.  "  Alas  !  and  she — she  too 
— these  cruel  men  have  infatuated  her.  Poor,  miserable 
me  !  Poor,  unhappy  Olivier  !  "  The  tones  of  her  voice 
cut  De  Scuderi  to  the  heart  ;  again  there  stirred  in  the 
depths  of  her  soul  a  dim  presentiment  that  there  was 
some  mystery  connected  with  the  case,  and  also  the  be- 
lief in  Olivier's  innocence  returned.  Her  mind  dis- 
tracted by  the  most  contradictory  feelings,  she  cried, 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


199 


"What  spirit  of  darkness  is  it  which  has  entangled  me 
in  this  terrible  affair  ?  I  am  certain  it  will  be  the  death 
of  me."  At  this  juncture  Baptiste  came  in,  pale  and 
terrified,  with  the  announcement  that  Desgrais  was  at 
the  door.  Ever  since  the  trial  of  the  infamous  La 
Voisin  the  appearance  of  Desgrais  in  any  house  was  the 
sure  precursor  of  some  criminal  charge  ;  hence  came 
Baptiste's  terror,  and  therefore  it  was  that  Mademoiselle 
asked  him  with  a  gracious  smile,  "  What's  the  matter 
with  you,  Baptiste  ?  The  name  Scuderi  has  been  found 
on  La  Voisin's  list,  has  it  not,  eh  ? "  "  For  God's  sake," 
replied  Baptiste,  trembling  in  every  limb,  "how  can 
you  speak  of  such  a  thing  ?  But  Desgrais,  that  terrible 
man  Desgrais,  behaves  so  mysteriously,  and  is  so 
urgent  ;  he  seems  as  if  he  couldn't  wait  a  moment 
before  seeing  you."  "Well,  then,  Baptiste,"  said  De 
Scuderi,  "then  bring  him  up  at  once — the  man  who  is 
so  terrible  to  you  ;  in  me,  at  least,  he  will  excite  no 
anxiety." 

"The  President  La  Regnie  has  sent  me  to  you, 
Mademoiselle,"  said  Desgrais  on  stepping  into  the  room, 
"  with  a  request  which  he  would  hardly  dare  hope  you 
could  grant,  did  he  not  know  your  virtue  and  your 
courage.  But  the  last  means  of  bringing  to  light  a  vile 
deed  of  blood  lie  in  your  hands  ;  and  you  have  already 
of  your  own  accord  taken  an  active  part  in  the  notori- 
ous trial  which  the  Chambre  Ardente,  and  in  fact  all  of 
us,  are  watching  with  breathless  interest.  Olivier  Brus- 
son  has  been  half  a  madman  since  he  saw  you.  He  was 
beginning  to  show  signs  of  compliance  and  a  readiness 
to  make  a  confession,  but  he  now  swears  again,  by  all 
the  powers  of  Heaven,  that  he  is  perfectly  innocent  of 
the  murder  of  Cardillac  ;  and  yet  he  says  he  is  ready  to 
die  the  death  which  he  has  deserved.  You  will  please 
observe,  Mademoiselle,  that  the  last  clause  evidently  has 


200 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


reference  to  other  crimes  which  weigh  upon  his  con- 
science. But  vain  are  all  our  efforts  to  get  him  to 
utter  a  single  word  more  ;  even  the  threat  of  torture 
has  been  of  no  avail.  He  begs  and  prays,  and  beseeches 
us  to  procure  him  an  interview  with  you  ;  for  to  you, 
to  you  only,  will  he  confess  all.  Pray  deign,  Madem- 
oiselle, to  hear  Brusson's  confession."  "  What !  "  ex- 
claimed De  Scuderi  indignantly,  "  am  I  to  be  made  an 
instrument  of  by  a  criminal  court,  am  I  to  abuse  this 
unhappy  man's  confidence  to  bring  him  to  the  scaffold  ? 
No,  Desgrais.  However  vile  a  murderer  Brusson  may 
be,  I  would  never,  never  deceive  him  in  that  villainous 
way.  I  don't  want  to  know  anything  about  his  secrets  ; 
in  any  case  they  would  be  locked  up  within  my  own 
bosom  as  if  they  were  a  holy  confession  made  to  a 
priest."  "  Perhaps,"  rejoined  Desgrais  with  a  subtle 
smile,  "perhaps,  Mademoiselle,  you  would  alter  your 
mind  after  you  had  heard  Brusson.  Did  you  not  your- 
self exhort  the  President  to  be  human  ?  And  he  is 
being  so,  in  that  he  gives  way  to  Brusson's  foolish  re- 
quest, and  thus  resorts  to  the  last  means  before  putting 
him  to  the  rack,  for  which  he  was  well  ripe  some  time 
ago."  De  Scuderi  shuddered  involuntarily.  "And 
then,  honoured  lady,"  continued  Desgrais,  "  it  will  not 
be  demanded  of  you  that  you  again  enter  those  dark 
gloomy  rooms  which  filled  you  with  such  horror  and 
aversion.  Olivier  shall  be  brought  to  you  here  in  your 
own  house  as  a  free  man,  but  at  night,  when  all  excite- 
ment can  be  avoided.  Then,  without  being  even  lis- 
tened to,  though  of  course  he  would  be  watched,  he 
may  without  constraint  make  a  clean  confession  to  you. 
That  you  personally  will  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
wretch — for  that  I  will  answer  to  you  with  my  life. 
He  mentions  your  name  with  the  intensest  veneration. 
He  reiterates  again  and  again  that  it  is  nothing  but  his 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


20I 


dark  destiny,  which  prevented  him  seeing  you  before, 
that  has  brought  his  life  into  jeopardy  in  this  way. 
Moreover,  you  will  be  at  liberty  to  divulge  what  you 
think  well  of  the  things  which  Brusson  confesses  to 
you.  And  what  more  could  we  indeed  compel  you  to 
do?" 

De  Scuderi  bent  her  eyes  upon  the  floor  in  reflection. 
She  felt  she  must  obey  the  Higher  Power  which  was 
thus  demanding  of  her  that  she  should  effect  the  dis- 
closure of  some  terrible  secret,  and  she  felt,  too,  as 
though  she  could  not  draw  back  out  of  the  tangled 
skein  into  which  she  had  run  without  any  conscious 
effort  of  will.  Suddenly  making  up  her  mind,  she  re- 
plied with  dignity,  "  God  will  give  me  firmness  and 
self-command.  Bring  Brusson  here  ;  I  will  speak  with 
him." 

Just  as  on  the  previous  occasion  when  Brusson 
brought  the  casket,  there  came  a  knock  at  De  Scuderi's 
house  door  at  midnight.  Baptiste,  forewarned  of  this 
nocturnal  visit,  at  once  opened  the  door.  De  Scuderi 
felt  an  icy  shiver  run  through  her  as  she  gathered  from 
the  light  footsteps  and  hollow  murmuring  voices  that 
the  guards  who  had  brought  Brusson  were  taking  up 
their  stations  about  the  passages  of  the  house. 

At  length  the  room  door  was  softly  opened.  Des- 
grais  came  in,  followed  by  Olivier  Brusson,  freed  from 
his  fetters,  and  dressed  in  his  own  neat  clothing.  The 
officer  bowed  respectfully  and  said,  "  Here  is  Brusson, 
honoured  lady,"  and  then  left  the  room.  Brusson  fell 
upon  his  knees  before  Mademoiselle,  and  raised  his 
folded  hands  in  entreaty,  whilst  copious  tears  ran  down 
his  cheeks. 

De  Scuderi  turned  pale  and  looked  down  upon  him 
without  being  able  to  utter  a  word.  Though  his  fea- 
tures were  now  gaunt  and  hollow  from  trouble  and  an- 


202 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


guish  and  pain,  yet  an  expression  of  the  truest  staunch- 
est  honesty  shone  upon  his  countenance.  The  longer 
Mademoiselle  allowed  her  eyes  to  rest  upon  his  face, 
the  more  forcibly  was  she  reminded  of  some  loved  per- 
son, whom  she  could  not  in  any  way  clearly  call  to 
mind.  All  her  feelings  of  shivery  uncomfortableness 
left  her  ;  she  forgot  that  it  was  Cardillac's  murderer 
who  was  kneeling  before  her  ;  she  spoke  in  the  calm 
pleasing  tone  of  goodwill  that  was  characteristic  of  her, 
"Well,  Brusson,  what  have  you  to  tell  me  ?  "  He,  still 
kneeling,  heaved  a  sigh  of  unspeakable  sadness,  that 
came  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  "  Oh  !  honoured, 
highly  esteemed  lady,  can  you  have  lost  all  traces  of 
recollection  of  me  ?  "  Mademoiselle  scanned  his  fea- 
tures more  narrowly,  and  replied  that  she  had  certainly 
discovered  in  his  face  a  resemblance  to  some  one  she 
had  once  loved,  and  that  it  was  entirely  owing  to  this 
resemblance  that  she  had  overcome  her  detestation  of 
the  murderer,  and  was  listening  to  him  calmly. 

Brusson  was  deeply  hurt  at  these  words  ;  he  rose 
hastily  to  his  feet  and  took  a  step  backwards,  fixing 
his  eyes  gloomily  on  the  floor.  "Then  you  have  com- 
pletely forgotten  Anne  Guiot?"  he  said  moodily;  "it 
is  her  son  Olivier, — the  boy  whom  you  often  tossed  on 
your  lap — who  now  stands  before  you."  "  Oh  help  me, 
good  Heaven  !  "  exclaimed  Mademoiselle,  covering  her 
face  with  both  hands  and  sinking  back  upon  the  cush- 
ions. And  reason  enough  she  had  to  be  thus  terribly 
affected.  Anne  Guiot,  the  daughter  of  an  impoverished 
burgher,  had  lived  in  De  Scuderi's  house  from  a  little 
girl,  and  had  been  brought  up  by  Mademoiselle  with 
all  the  care  and  faithfulness  which  a  mother  expends 
upon  her  own  child.  Now  when  she  was  grown  up  there 
came  a  modest  good-looking  young  man,  Claude  Brus- 
son by  name,  and  he  wooed  the  girl.  And  since  he  was 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


203 


a  thoroughly  clever  watchmaker,  who  would  be  sure  to 
find  a  very  good  living  in  Paris,  and  since  Anne  had 
also  grown  to  be  truly  fond  of  him,  De  Scuderi  had 
no  scruples  about  giving  her  consent  to  her  adopted 
daughter's  marriage.  The  young  people,  having  set 
up  housekeeping,  led  a  quiet  life  of  domestic  happi- 
ness ;  and  the  ties  of  affection  were  knit  still  closer  by 
the  birth  of  a  marvellously  pretty  boy,  the  perfect 
image  of  his  lovely  mother. 

De  Scuderi  made  a  complete  idol  of  little  Olivier, 
carrying  him  off  from  his  mother  for  hours  and  days  to- 
gether to  caress  him  and  to  fondle  him.  Hence  the  boy 
grew  quite  accustomed  to  her,  and  would  just  as  will- 
ingly be  with  her  as  with  his  mother.  Three  years 
passed  away,  when  the  trade-envy  of  Brusson's  fellows- 
artificers  made  them  concert  together  against  him,  so 
that  his  business  decreased  day  by  day,  until  at  last 
he  could  hardly  earn  enough  for  a  bare  subsistence. 
Along  with  this  he  felt  an  ardent  longing  to  see  once 
more  his  beautiful  native  city  of  Geneva  ;  accordingly 
the  small  family  moved  thither,  in  spite  of  De  Scuderi's 
opposition  and  her  promises  of  every  possible  means  of 
support.  Anne  wrote  two  or  three  times  to  her  foster- 
mother,  and  then  nothing  more  was  heard  from  her  ; 
so  that  Mademoiselle  had  to  take  refuge  in  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  happy  life  they  were  leading  in  Brusson's 
native  town  prevented  their  memories  dwelling  upon 
the  days  that  were  past  and  gone.  It  was  now  just 
twenty-three  years  since  Brusson  had  left  Paris  along 
with  his  wife  and  child  and  had  gone  to  Geneva. 

"  Oh  !  horrible  !  "  exclaimed  De  Scuderi  when  she 
had  again  recovered  herself  to  some  extent.  "  Oh  ! 
horrible  !   are  you  Olivier  ?   my  Anne's  son  ?  And 

now  "    "  Indeed,  honoured  lady,"  replied  Olivier 

calmly  and  composedly,  "  indeed  you  never  could,  I 


204  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


suppose,  have  any  the  least  idea  that  the  boy  whom 
you  fondled  with  all  a  mother's  tenderness,  into  whose 
mouth  you  never  tired  of  putting  sweets  and  candies 
as  you  tossed  him  on  your  lap,  whom  you  called  by 
the  most  caressing  names,  would,  when  grown  up  to 
be  a  young  man,  one  day  stand  before  you  accused  of 
an  atrocious  crime.  I  am  not  free  from  reproach  ;  the 
Chambre  Ardente  may  justly  bring  a  charge  against  me  : 
but  by  my  hopes  of  happiness  after  death,  even  though 
it  be  by  the  executioner's  hand,  I  am  innocent  of  this 
bloody  deed  ;  the  unhappy  Cardillac  did  not  perish 
through  me,  nor  through  any  guilty  connivance  on  my 
part."  So  saying,  Olivier  began  to  shake  and  tremble. 
Mademoiselle  silently  pointed  to  a  low  chair  which 
stood  beside  him,  and  he  slowly  sank  down  upon  it. 

"  I  have  had  plenty  of  time  to  prepare  myself  for 
my  interview  with  you,"  he  began,  "which  I  regard  as 
the  last  favour  to  be  granted  me  by  Heaven  in  token 
of  my  reconciliation  with  it,  and  I  have  also  had  time 
enough  to  gain  what  calmness  and  composure  are 
needful  in  order  to  relate  to  you  the  history  of  my 
fearful  and  unparalleled  misfortunes.  I  entreat  your 
pity,  that  you  will  listen  calmly  to  me,  however  much 
you  may  be  surprised — nay,  even  struck  with  horror, — 
by  the  disclosure  of  a  secret  which  I  am  sure  you  have 
never  for  a  moment  suspected.  Oh!  that  my  poor 
father  had  never  left  Paris  !  As  far  back  as  my 
recollections  of  Geneva  go  I  remember  how  I  felt  the 
tears  of  my  unhappy  parents  falling  upon  my  cheeks, 
and  how  their  complaints  of  misery,  which  I  did  not 
understand,  provoked  me  also  to  tears.  Later  I  ex- 
perienced to  the  full  and  with  keen  consciousness  in 
what  a  state  of  crushing  want  and  of  deep  distress  my 
parents  lived.  My  father  found  all  his  hopes  deceived. 
He  died  bowed  to  the  earth  with  pain,  and  broken  with 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDJSRT.  205 


trouble,  immediately  after  he  had  succeeded  in  placing 
me  as  apprentice  to  a  goldsmith.  My  mother  talked 
much  about  you  ;  she  said  she  would  pour  out  all  her 
troubles  to  you  ;  but  then  she  fell  a  victim  to  that 
despondency  which  is  born  of  misery.  That,  and  also 
a  feeling  of  false  shame,  which  often  preys  upon  a 
deeply  wounded  spirit,  prevented  her  from  taking  any 
decisive  step.  Within  a  few  months  after  my  father's 
death  my  mother  followed  him  to  the  grave."  "  Poor 
Anne!  poor  Anne!"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle,  quite 
overcome  by  sorrow.  "All  praise  and  thanks  to  the 
Eternal  Power  of  Heaven  that  she  is  gone  to  the 
better  land  ;  she  will  not  see  her  darling  son,  branded 
with  shame,  fall  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner,"  cried 
Olivier  aloud,  casting  his  eyes  upwards  with  a  wild 
unnatural  look  of  anguish. 

The  police  grew  uneasy  outside  ;  footsteps  passed  to 
an  fro.  "  Ho  !  ho  ! "  said  Olivier,  smiling  bitterly, 
"  Desgrais  is  waking  up  his  myrmidons,  as  though  I 
could  make  my  escape  here.  But  to  continue — I  led 
a  hard  life  with  my  master,  albeit  I  soon  got  to  be  the 
best  workman,  and  at  last  even  surpassed  my  master 
himself.  One  day  a  stranger  happened  to  come  into 
our  shop  to  buy  some  jewellery.  And  when  he  saw  a 
beautiful  necklace  which  I  had  made  he  clapped  me 
on  the  shoulder  in  a  friendly  way  and  said,  eyeing  the 
ornament,  1  Ha  !  i'  faith,  my  young  friend,  that's  an 
excellent  piece  of  work.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't 
know  who  there  is  who  could  beat  you,  unless  it  were 
Rene  Cardillac,  who,  you  know,  is  the  first  goldsmith 
in  the  world.  You  ought  to  go  to  him  ;  he  would 
gladly  take  you  into  his  workshop  ;  for  nobody  but 
you  could  help  him  in  his  artistic  labours  ;  and  on  the 
other  hand  he  is  the  only  man  from  whom  you  could 
learn  anything.'    The  stranger's  words  sank  into  my 


2o6  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


heart  and  took  deep  root  there.  I  hadn't  another 
moment's  ease  in  Geneva  ;  I  felt  a  violent  impulse  to 
be  gone.  At  last  I  contrived  to  get  free  from  my 
master.  I  came  to  Paris.  Rene  Cardillac  received 
me  coldly  and  churlishly.  I  persevered  in  my  purpose  ; 
he  must  give  me  some  work,  however  insignificant  it 
might  be.  I  got  a  small  ring  to  finish.  On  my  taking 
the  work  to  him,  he  fixed  his  keen  glittering  eyes  upon 
me  as  if  he  would  read  the  very  depths  of  my  soul. 
Then  he  said,  '  You  are  a  good  clever  journeyman  ; 
you  may  come  to  me  and  help  me  in  my  shop.  I  will 
pay  you  well  ;  you  shall  be  satisfied  with  me.'  Cardil- 
lac kept  his  word.  I  had  been  several  weeks  with  him 
before  I  saw  Madelon  ;  she  was  at  that  time,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  in  the  country,  staying  with  a  female  relative 
of  Cardillac's  ;  but  at  length  she  came.    O  Heaven  ! 

0  God  !  what  did  I  feel  when  I  saw  the  sweet  angel  ? 
Has  any  man  ever  loved  as  I  do  ?  And  now — O 
Madelon  !  " 

Olivier  was  so  distressed  he  could  not  go  on.  Hold- 
ing both  hands  before  his  face,  he  sobbed  violently, 
But  at  length,  fighting  down  with  an  effort  the  sharp 
pain  that  shook  him,  he  went  on  with  his  story. 

"  Madelon  looked  upon  me  with  friendly  eyes.  Her 
visits  into  the  workshop  grew  more  and  more  frequent. 

1  was  enraptured  to  perceive  that  she  loved  me.  Not- 
withstanding the  strict  watch  her  father  kept  upon  us 
many  a  stolen  pressure  of  the  hand  served  as  a  token 
of  the  mutual  understanding  arrived  at  between  us  ; 
Cardillac  did  not  appear  to  notice  anything.  I  intended 
first  to  win  his  favour,  and,  if  I  could  gain  my  master- 
ship, then  to  woo  for  Madelon.  One  day,  as  I  was 
about  to  begin  work,  Cardillac  came  to  me,  his  face 
louring  darkly  with  anger  and  scornful  contempt.  1 1 
don't  want  your  services  any  longer,'  he  began,  '  so  out 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


207 


you  go  from  my  house  this  very  hour  ;  and  never  show 
yourself  in  my  sight  again.  Why  I  can't  do  with  you 
here  any  longer,  I  have  no  need  to  tell  you.  For  you, 
you  poor  devil,  the  sweet  fruit  at  which  you  are  stretch- 
ing out  your  hand  hangs  too  high.'  I  attempted  to 
speak,  but  he  laid  hold  upon  me  with  a  powerful  grasp 
and  threw  me  out  of  doors,  so  that  I  fell  to  the  floor 
and  severely  wounded  my  head  and  arm.  I  left  the 
house  hotly  indignant  and  furious  with  the  stinging 
pain  ;  at  last  I  found  a  good-natured  acquaintance  in 
the  remotest  corner  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Martin,  who 
received  me  into  his  garret.  But  I  had  neither  ease 
nor  rest.  Every  night  I  used  to  lurk  about  Cardillac's 
house  deluding  myself  with  the  fancy  that  Madelon 
would  hear  my  sighing  and  lamenting,  and  that  she 
would  perhaps  find  a  way  to  speak  to  me  out  of  the 
window  unheard.  All  sorts  of  confused  plans  were  re- 
volving in  my  brain,  which  I  hoped  to  persuade  her  to 
carry  out. 

"  Now  joining  Cardillac's  house  in  the  Rue  Nicaise 
there  is  a  high  wall,  with  niches  and  old  stone  figures 
in  them,  now  half  crumbled  away.  One  night  I  was 
standing  close  beside  one  of  these  stone  images  and 
looking  up  at  those  windows  of  the  house  which  looked 
out  upon  the  court  enclosed  by  the  wall.  All  at  once 
I  observed  a  light  in  Cardillac's  workshop.  It  was 
midnight  ;  Cardillac  never  used  to  be  awake  at  that 
hour  ;  he  was  always  in  the  habit  of  going  to  rest  on 
the  stroke  of  nine.  My  heart  beat  in  uncertain  trepi- 
dation ;  I  began  to  think  something  might  have  hap- 
pened which  would  perhaps  pave  the  way  for  me  to  go 
back  into  the  house  once  more.  But  soon  the  light 
vanished  again.  I  squeezed  myself  into  the  niche  close 
to  the  stone  figure  ;  but  I  started  back  in  dismay  on 
feeling  a  pressure  against  me,  as  if  the  image  had  be- 


2o8  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SC  UDER  I. 


come  instinct  with  life.  By  the  dusky  glimmer  of  the 
night  I  perceived  that  the  stone  was  slowly  revolving, 
and  a  dark  form  slipped  out  from  behind  it  and  went 
away  down  the  street  with  light,  soft  footsteps.  I 
rushed  towards  the  stone  figure  ;  it  stood  as  before, 
close  to  the  wall.  Almost  without  thinking,  rather  as 
if  impelled  by  some  inward  prompter,  I  stealthily  fol- 
lowed the  figure.  Just  beside  an  image  of  the  Virgin 
he  turned  round  ;  the  light  of  the  street  lamp  standing 
exactly  in  front  of  the  image  fell  full  upon  his  face. 
It  was  Cardillac. 

"An  unaccountable  feeling  of  apprehension — an  un- 
earthly dread  fell  upon  me.  Like  one  subject  to  the 
power  of  magic,  I  had  to  go  on — on — in  the  track  of 
the  spectre-like  somnambulist.  For  that  was  what  I 
took  my  master  to  be,  notwithstanding  that  it  was  not 
the  time  of  full  moon,  when  this  visitation  is  wont  to 
attack  the  sleeper.  Finally  Cardillac  disappeared  into 
the  deep  shade  on  the  side  of  the  street.  By  a  sort  of 
low  involuntary  cough,  which,  however,  I  knew  well,  I 
gathered  that  he  was  standing  in  the  entry  to  a  house. 
*  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  ?  What  is  he  going  to 
do  ? '  I  asked  myself,  utterly  astounded,  pressing  close 
against  a  house-wall.  It  was  not  long  before  a  man 
came  along  with  fluttering  plumes  and  jingling  spur, 
singing  and  gaily  humming  an  air.  Like  a  tiger  leap- 
ing upon  his  prey,  Cardillac  burst  out  of  his  lurking- 
place  and  threw  himself  upon  the  man,  who  that  very 
same  instant  fell  to  the  ground,  gasping  in  the  agonies 
of  death.  I  rushed  up  with  a  cry  of  horror  ;  Cardillac 
was  stooping  over  the  man,  who  lay  on  the  floor. 
'  Master  Cardillac,  what  are  you  doing  ? '  I  shouted. 
1  Cursed  fool ! '  growled  Cardillac,  running  past  me 
with  lightning-like  speed  and  disappearing  from  sight. 

''Quite  upset  and  hardly  able  to  take  a  step,  I 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI.  209 


approached  the  man  who  had  been  stabbed.  I  knelt 
down  beside  him.  'Perhaps,'  thought  I,  'he  still  may 
be  saved  ; '  but  there  was  not  the  least  sign  of  life.  In 
my  fearful  agitation  I  had  hardly  noticed  that  the 
Marechausee  had  surrounded  me.  'What?'  already 
another  assassinated  by  these  demons  !  Hi !  hi !  Young 
man,  what  are  you  about  here  ? — Are  you  one  of  the 
band  ? — Away  with  him  ! '  Thus  they  cried  one  after 
another,  and  they  laid  hold  of  me.  I  was  scarcely  able 
to  stammer  out  that  I  should  never  be  capable  of  such 
an  abominable  deed,  and  that  they  might  therefore  let 
me  go  my  way  in  peace.  Then  one  of  them  turned  his 
lamp  upon  my  face  and  said  laughing,  'Why,  it's  Olivier 
Brusson,  the  journeyman  goldsmith,  who  works  for  our 
worthy  honest  Master  Rene  Cardillac.  Ay,  I  should 
think  so  ! — he  murder  people  in  the  street — he  looks 
like  it  indeed  !  It's  just  like  murderous  assassins  to 
stoop  lamenting  over  their  victim's  corpse  till  some- 
body comes  and  takes  them  into  custody.  Well,  how 
was  it,  youngster?  Speak  out  boldly?'  'A  man  sprang 
out  immediately  in  front  of  me,'  I  said,  'and  threw 
himself  upon  this  man  and  stabbed  him,  and  then  ran 
away  as  quick  as  lightning  when  I  shouted  out.  I  only 
wanted  to  see  if  the  stabbed  man  might  still  be  saved.' 
'  No,  my  son,'  cried  one  of  those  who  had  taken  up  the 
corpse  ;  '  he's  dead  enough  ;  the  dagger  has  gone  right 
through  the  heart  as  usual.'  'The  Devil !'  said  another  ; 
'we  have  come  too  late  again,  as  we  did  yesterday.' 
Thereupon  they  went  their  way,  taking  the  corpse 
with  them. 

"What  my  feelings  were  I  cannot  attempt  to  de- 
scribe. I  felt  myself  to  make  sure  whether  I  were  not 
being  mocked  by  some  hideous  dream  ;  I  fancied  I 
must  soon  wake  up  and  wonder  at  the  preposterous 
delusion.  Cardillac,  the  father  of  my  Madelon,  an 
Vol.  IT.— 14 


2IO 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


atrocious  murderer  !  My  strength  failed  me  ;  I  sank 
down  upon  the  stone  steps  leading  up  to  a  house.  The 
morning  light  began  to  glimmer  and  was  stronger  and 
stronger  ;  an  officer's  hat  decorated  with  feathers  lay- 
before  me  on  the  pavement.  I  saw  again  vividly  Car- 
dillac's  bloody  deed,  which  had  been  perpetrated  on 
the  spot  where  I  sat.    I  ran  off  horrified. 

"  I  was  sitting  in  my  garret,  my  thoughts  in  a 
perfect  whirl,  nay,  I  was  almost  bereft  of  my  senses, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  Rene  Cardillac  came  in. 
*  For  God's  sake,  what  do  you  want  ? '  I  exclaimed  on 
seeing  him.  Without  heeding  my  words,  he  ap- 
proached close  to  me,  smiling  with  calmness  and  an  air 
of  affability  which  only  increased  my  inward  abhor- 
rence. Pulling  up  a  rickety  old  stool  and  taking  his 
seat  upon  it  close  beside  me,  for  I  was  unable  to  rise 
from  the  heap  of  straw  upon  which  I  had  thrown 
myself,  he  began,  '  Well,  Olivier,  how  are  you  getting 
on,  my  poor  fellow  ?  I  did  indeed  do  an  abominably 
rash  thing  when  I  turned  you  out  of  the  house  ;  I  miss 
you  at  every  step  and  turn.  I  have  got  a  piece  of 
work  on  hand  just  now  which  I  cannot  finish  without 
your  help.  How  would  it  be  if  you  came  back  to 
work  in  my  shop  ?  Have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  Yes, 
I  know  I  have  insulted  you.  I  will  not  attempt  to 
conceal  it  from  you  that  I  was  angry  on  account  of 
your  love  making  to  my  Madelon.  But  since  then  I 
have  ripely  reflected  upon  the  matter,  and  decided 
that,  considering  your  skill  and  industry  and  faithful 
honesty,  I  could  not  wish  for  any  better  son-in-law 
than  you.  So  come  along  with  me,  and  see  if  you 
can  win  Madelon  to  be  your  bride.' 

"  Cardillac's  words  cut  me  to  the  very  heart  ;  I 
trembled  with  dread  at  his  wickedness  ;  I  could  not 
utter  a  word.     'Do  you  hesitate?'  he  continued  in 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL  211 


a  sharp  tone,  piercing  me  through  and  through  with 
his  glittering  eyes  ;  '  do  you  hesitate  ?  Perhaps  you 
can't  come  along  with  me  just  to-day — perhaps  you 
have  some  other  business  on  hand  !  Perhaps  you 
mean  forsooth  to  pay  a  visit  to  Desgrais  or  get  your- 
self admitted  to  an  interview  with  D'Argenson  or  La 
Regnie.  But  you'd  better  take  care,  boy,  that  the 
claws  which  you  entice  out  of  their  sheaths  to  other 
people's  destruction  don't  seize  upon  you  yourself 
and  tear  you  to  pieces  ! '  Then  my  swelling  indig- 
nation suddenly  found  vent.  4  Let  those  who  are 
conscious  of  having  committed  atrocious  crimes,'  I 
cried, — '  let  them  start  at  the  names  you  just  named. 
As  for  me,  I  have  no  reason  to  do  so — I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  them.'  'Properly  speaking,'  went  on 
Cardillac,  1  properly  speaking,  Olivier,  it  is  an  honour 
to  you  to  work  with  me — with  me,  the  most  re- 
nowned master  of  the  age,  and  highly  esteemed  every- 
where for  his  faithfulness  and  honesty,  so  that  all 
wicked  calumnies  would  recoil  upon  the  head  of  the 
backbiter.  And  as  far  as  concerns  Madeion,  I  must 
now  confess  that  it  is  she  alone  to  whom  you  owe 
this  compliance  on  my  part.  She  loves  you  with  an 
intensity  which  I  should  not  have  credited  the  delicate 
child  with.  Directly  you  had  gone  she  threw  herself 
at  my  feet,  clasped  my  knees,  and  confessed  amid  end- 
less tears  that  she  could  not  live  without  you.  I 
thought  she  only  fancied  so,  as  so  often  happens  with 
young  and  love-sick  girls  ;  they  think  they  shall  die 
at  once  the  first  time  a  milky-faced  boy  looks  kindly 
upon  them.  But  my  Madelon  did  really  become  ill 
and  begin  to  pine  away  ;  and  when  I  tried  to  talk  her 
out  of  her  foolish  silly  notions,  she  only  uttered  your 
name  scores  of  times.  What  on  earth  could  I  do  if 
I  didn't  want  her  to  die   away  in  despair  ?  Last 


212  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


evening  I  told  her  I  would  give  my  consent  to  her 
dearest  wishes,  and  would  come  and  fetch  you  to-day. 
And  during  the  night  she  has  blossomed  up  like  a  rose, 
and  is  now  waiting  for  you  with  all  the  longing  im- 
patience of  love.' 

"  May  God  in  heaven  forgive  me  !  I  don't  know  my- 
self how  it  came  about,  but  I  suddenly  found  myself  in 
Cardillac's  house  ;  and  Madelon  cried  aloud  with  joy, 
'  Olivier  !  my  Olivier  !  my  darling  !  my  husband  ! '  as 
she  rushed  towards  me  and  threw  both  her  arms  round 
my  neck,  pressing  me  close  to  her  bosom,  till  in  a  per- 
fect delirium  of  passionate  delight  I  swore  by  the  Vir- 
gin and  all  the  saints  that  I  would  never,  never  leave 
her." 

Olivier  was  so  deeply  agitated  by  the  recollection  of 
this  fateful  moment,  that  he  was  obliged  to  pause.  De 
Scuderi,  struck  with  horror  at  this  foul  iniquity  in  a 
man  whom  she  had  always  looked  upon  as  a  model  of 
virtue  and  honest  integrity,  cried,  "  Oh  !  it  is  horrible  ! 
So  Rene  Cardillac  belongs  to  the  murderous  band 
which  has  so  long  made  our  good  city  a  mere  bandits' 
haunt?"  "What  do  you  say,  Mademoiselle,  to  the 
band?"  said  Olivier.  "  There  has  never  been  such  a 
band.  It  was  Cardillac  alone  who,  active  in  wickedness, 
sought  for  his  victims  and  found  them  throughout  the 
entire  city.  And  it  was  because  he  acted  alone  that  he 
was  enabled  to  carry  on  his  operations  with  so  much 
security,  and  from  the  same  cause  arose  the  insuperable 
diinculty  of  getting  a  clue  to  the  murderer.  But  let  me 
go  on  with  my  story  ;  the  sequel  will  explain  to  you  the 
secrets  of  the  most  atrocious  but  at  the  same  time  of 
the  most  unfortunate  of  men. 

"  The  situation  in  which  I  now  found  myself  fixed  at 
my  master's  may  be  easily  imagined.  The  step  was 
taken  ;  I  could  not  go  back.    At  times  I  felt  as  though 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDÜRL 


213 


I  were  Cardillac's  accomplice  in  crime  ;  the  only  thing 
that  made  me  forget  the  inner  anguish  that  tortured  me 
was  Madelon's  love,  and  it  was  only  in  her  presence 
that  I  succeeded  in  totally  suppressing  all  external 
signs  of  the  nameless  trouble  and  anxiety  I  had  in  my 
heart.  When  I  was  working  with  the  old  man  in  the 
shop,  I  could  never  look  him  in  the  face  ;  and  I  was 
hardly  able  to  speak  a  wTord,  owing  to  the  awful  dread 
with  which  I  trembled  whenever  near  the  villain,  who 
fulfilled  all  the  duties  of  a  faithful  and  tender  father, 
and  of  a  good  citizen,  whilst  the  night  veiled  his  mon- 
strous iniquity.  Madelon,  dutiful,  pure,  confiding  as 
an  angel,  clung  to  him  with  idolatrous  affection.  The 
thought  often  struck  like  a  dagger  to  my  heart  that,  if 
justice  should  one  day  overtake  the  reprobate  and  un- 
mask him,  she,  deceived  by  the  diabolical  arts  of  the 
foul  Fiend,  would  assuredly  die  in  the  wildest  agonies 
of  despair.  This  alone  would  keep  my  lips  locked,  even 
though  it  brought  upon  me  a  criminal's  death.  Not- 
withstanding that  I  picked  up  a  good  deal  of  informa- 
tion from  the  talk  of  the  Marcchaussee,  yet  the  motive 
for  Cardillac's  atrocities,  as  well  as  his  manner  of 
accomplishing  them,  still  remained  riddles  to  me  ;  but 
I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  solution. 

"  One  day  Cardillac  wTas  very  grave  and  preoccupied 
over  his  work,  instead  of  being  in  the  merriest  of 
humours,  jesting  and  laughing  as  he  usually  did,  and 
so  provoking  my  abhorrence  of  him.  All  of  a  sudden 
he  threw  aside  the  ornament  he  was  working  at,  so 
that  the  pearls  and  other  stones  rolled  across  the  floor, 
and  starting  to  his  feet  he  exclaimed,  '  Olivier,  things 
can't  go  on  in  this  way  between  us  ;  the  footing  we 
are  now  on  is  getting  unbearable.  Chance  has  played 
into  your  hands  the  knowledge  of  a  secret  which  has 
baffled  the  most  inventive  cunning  of  Desgrais  and  all 


214  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SC  UDERT. 


his  myrmidons.  You  have  seen  me  at  my  midnight 
work,  to  which  I  am  goaded  by  my  evil  destiny  ;  no 
resistance  is  ever  of  any  avail.  And  your  evil  destiny 
it  was  which  led  you  to  follow  me,  which  wrapped  you 
in  an  impenetrable  veil  and  gave  you  the  lightness  of 
foot  which  enabled  you  to  walk  as  noiselessly  as  the 
smallest  insect,  so  that  I,  who  in  the  blackest  night 
see  as  plainly  as  a  tiger  and  hear  the  slightest  noise, 
the  humming  of  midges,  far  away  along  the  streets, 
did  not  perceive  you  near  me.  Your  evil  star  has 
brought  you  to  me,  my  associate.  As  you  are  now 
circumstanced  there  can  be  no  thought  of  treachery 
on  your  part,  and  so  you  may  now  know  all.'  1  Never, 
never  will  I  be  your  associate,  you  hypocritical  rep- 
robate,' I  endeavoured  to  cry  out,  but  I  felt  a  choking 
sensation  in  my  throat,  caused  by  the  dread  which 
came  upon  me  as  Cardillac  spoke.  Instead  of  speak- 
ing words,  I  only  gasped  out  certain  unintelligible 
sounds.  Cardillac  again  sat  down  on  his  bench,  dry- 
ing the  perspiration  from  his  brow.  He  appeared  to 
be  fearfully  agitated  by  his  recollections  of  the  past 
and  to  have  difficulty  in  preserving  his  composure. 
But  at  length  he  began. 

"  '  Learned  men  say  a  good  deal  about  the  extra- 
ordinary impressions  of  which  women  are  capable 
when  enceinte,  and  of  the  singular  influence  which 
such  a  vivid  involuntary  external  impression  has  upon 
the  unborn  child.  I  was  told  a  surprising  story  about 
my  mother.  About  eight  months  before  I  was  born, 
my  mother  accompanied  certain  other  women  to  see  a 
splendid  court  spectacle  in  the  Trianon.1  There  her 
eyes  fell  upon  a  cavalier  wearing  a  Spanish  costume, 


1  The  well-known  pleasure  castle  erected  by  Louis  XIV.  at  Ver- 
sailles for  De  Maintenon. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDÄRL  215 


who  wore  a  flashing  jewelled  chain  round  his  neck, 
and  she  could  not  keep  her  eyes  off  it.  Her  whole 
being  was  concentrated  into  desire  to  possess  the  glit- 
tering stones,  which  she  regarded  as  something  of 
supernatural  origin.  Several  years  previously,  before 
my  mother  was  married,  the  same  cavalier  had  paid 
his  insidious  addresses  to  her,  but  had  been  repulsed 
with  indignant  scorn.  My  mother  knew  him  again  ; 
but  now  by  the  gleam  of  the  brilliant  diamonds  he 
appeared  to  her  to  be  a  being  of  a  higher  race — the 
paragon  of  beauty.  He  noticed  my  mother's  looks  of 
ardent  desire.  He  believed  he  should  now  be  more 
successful  than  formerly.  He  found  means  to  ap- 
proach her,  and,  yet  more,  to  draw  her  away  from 
her  acquaintances  to  a  retired  place.  Then  he  clasped 
her  passionately  in  his  arms,  whilst  she  laid  hold  of 
the  handsome  chain  ;  but  in  that  moment  the  cavalier 
reeled  backwards,  dragging  my  mother  to  the  ground 
along  with  him.  Whatever  was  the  cause — whether 
he  had  a  sudden  stroke,  or  whether  it  was  due  to 
something  else — enough,  the  man  was  dead.  All  my 
mother's  efforts  to  release  herself  from  the  stiffened 
arms  of  the  corpse  proved  futile.  His  glazed  eyes, 
their  faculty  of  vision  now  extinguished,  were  fixed 
upon  her  ;  and  she  lay  on  the  ground  with  the  dead 
man.  At  length  her  piercing  screams  for  help  reached 
the  ears  of  some  people  passing  at  a  distance  ;  they 
hurried  up  and  freed  her  from  the  arms  of  her  ghastly 
lover.  The  horror  prostrated  her  in  a  serious  illness. 
Her  life,  and  mine  too,  was  despaired  of  ;  but  she  re- 
covered, and  her  accouchement  was  more  favourable 
than  could  have  been  expected.  But  the  terror  of 
that  fearful  moment  had  left  its  stamp  upon  me.  The 
evil  star  of  my  destiny  had  got  in  the  ascendant  and 
shot  down  its  sparks  upon  me,  enkindling  in  me  a 


210 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


most  singular  but  at  the  same  time  a  most  pernicious 
passion.  Even  in  the  earliest  days  of  my  childhood 
there  was  nothing  I  thought  so  much  of  as  I  did  of 
flashing  diamonds  and  ornaments  of  gold.  It  was  re- 
garded as  an  ordinary  childish  inclination.  But  the 
contrary  was  soon  made  manifest,  for  when  a  boy  I 
stole  all  the  gold  and  jewellery  I  could  anywhere  lay 
my  hands  on.  Like  the  most  experienced  goldsmith 
I  could  distinguish  by  instinct  false  jewellery  from  real. 
The  latter  alone  proved  an  attraction  to  me  ;  objects 
made  of  imitated  gold  as  well  as  gold  coins  I  heeded 
not  in  the  least.  My  inborn  propensity  had,  however, 
to  give  way  to  the  excessively  cruel  thrashings  which 
I  received  at  my  father's  hand. 

" 1 1  adopted  the  trade  of  a  goldsmith,  merely  that  I 
might  be  able  to  handle  gold  and  precious  stones.  I 
worked  with  passionate  enthusiasm  and  soon  became 
the  first  master  in  the  craft.  But  now  began  a  period 
in  which  my  innate  propensity,  so  long  repressed,  burst 
forth  with  vehemence  and  grew  most  rapidly,  imbibing 
nourishment  from  everything  about  it.  So  soon  as  I 
had  completed  a  piece  of  jewellery,  and  had  delivered 
it  up  to  the  customer,  I  fell  into  a  state  of  unrest,  of 
desperate  disquiet,  which  robbed  me  of  sleep  and  health 
and  courage  for  my  daily  life.  Day  and  night  the  per- 
son for  whom  I  had  done  the  work  stood  before  my 
eyes  like  a  spectre,  adorned  with  my  jewellery,  whilst  a 
voice  whispered  in  my  ears,  "  Yes,  it's  yours  ;  yes  it's 
yours.  Go  and  take  it.  What  does  a  dead  man  want 
diamonds  for?"  Then  I  began  to  practise  thievish 
arts.  As  I  had  access  to  the  houses  of  the  great,  I 
speedily  turned  every  opportunity  to  good  account :  no 
lock  could  baffle  my  skill ;  and  I  soon  had  the  object 
which  I  had  made  in  my  hands  again.  But  after  a  time 
even  that  did  not  banish  my  unrest.     That  unearthly 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


217 


voice  still  continued  to  make  itself  heard  in  my  ears, 
mocking  me  to  scorn,  and  crying,  "  Ho  !  ho  !  a  dead 
man  is  wearing  your  jewellery."  By  some  inexplicable 
means,  which  I  do  not  understand,  I  began  to  conceive 
an  unspeakable  hatred  of  those  for  whom  I  made  my 
ornaments.  Ay,  deep  down  in  my  heart  there  began 
to  stir  a  murderous  feeling  against  them,  at  which  I 
myself  trembled  with  apprehension. 

"  'About  this  time  I  bought  this  house.  I  had  just 
struck  a  bargain  with  the  owner  ;  we  were  sitting  in 
this  room  drinking  a  glass  of  wine  together  and  enjoy- 
ing ourselves  over  the  settlement  of  our  business. 
Night  had  come  ;  I  rose  to  go  ;  then  the  vendor  of  the 
house  said,  "  See  here,  Master  Rene  ;  before  you  go,  I 
must  make  you  acquainted  with  the  secret  of  the  place." 
Therewith  he  unlocked  that  press  let  into  the  wall 
there,  pushed  away  the  panels  at  the  back,  and  stepped 
into  a  little  room,  where,  stooping  down,  he  lifted  up  a 
trap-door.  We  descended  a  flight  of  steep,  narrow 
stairs,  and  came  to  a  narrow  postern,  which  he  unlocked, 
and  let  us  out  into  the  court-yard.  Then  the  old  gen- 
tleman, the  previous  owner  of  the  house,  stepped  up  to 
the  wall  and  pressed  an  iron  knob,  which  projected  only 
very  triflingly  from  it ;  immediately  a  portion  of  the 
wall  swung  round,  so  that  a  man  could  easily  slip 
through  the  opening,  and  in  that  way  gain  the  street. 
I  will  show  you  the  neat  contrivance  some  day,  Olivier  ; 
very  likely  it  was  constructed  by  the  cunning  monks  of 
the  monastery  which  formerly  stood  on  this  site,  in 
order  that  they  might  steal  in  and  out  secretly.  It  is  a 
piece  of  wood,  plastered  with  mortar  and  white-washed 
on  the  outside  only,  and  within  it,  on  the  side  next  the 
street,  is  fixed  a  statue,  also  of  wood,  but  coloured  to 
look  exactly  like  stone,  and  the  whole  piece,  together 
with  the  statue,  moves  upon  concealed  hinges.  Dark 


218 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


thoughts  swept  into  my  mind  when  I  saw  this  contriv- 
ance ;  it  appeared  to  have  been  built  with  a  predestined 
view  to  such  deeds  as  yet  remained  unknown  to  myself. 

"  '  I  had  just  completed  a  valuable  ornament  for  a 
courtier,  and  knew  that  he  intended  it  for  an  opera- 
dancer.  The  ominous  torture  assailed  me  again  ;  the 
spectre  dogged  my  footsteps ;  the  whispering  fiend  was 
at  my  ear.  I  took  possession  of  my  new  house.  I 
tossed  sleeplessly  on  my  couch,  bathed  in  perspiration, 
caused  by  the  hideous  torments  I  was  enduring.  In 
imagination  I  saw  the  man  gliding  along  to  the  dancer's 
abode  with  my  ornament.  I  leapt  up  full  of  fury; 
threw  on  my  mantle,  went  down  by  the  secret  stairs, 
through  the  wall,  and  into  the  Rue  Nicaise.  He  is 
coming  along  ;  I  throw  myself  upon  him  ;  he  screams 
out ;  but  I  have  seized  him  fast  from  behind,  and  driven 
my  dagger  right  into  his  heart  ;  the  ornament  is  mine. 
This  done  I  experienced  a  calmness,  a  satisfaction  in 
my  soul,  which  I  had  never  yet  experienced.  The 
spectre  had  vanished  ;  the  voice  of  the  fiend  was  still. 
Now  I  knew  what  my  evil  Destiny  wanted  ;  I  had 
either  to  yield  to  it  or  to  perish.  And  now  too  you 
understand  the  secret  of  all  my  conduct,  Olivier.  But 
do  not  believe,  because  I  must  do  that  for  which  there 
is  no  help,  that  therefore  I  have  entirely  lost  all  sense 
of  pity,  of  compassion,  which  is  said  to  be  one  of  the 
essential  properties  of  human  nature.  You  know  how 
hard  it  is  for  me  to  part  with  a  finished  piece  of  work, 
and  that  there  are  many  for  whom  I  refuse  to  work  at 
all,  because  I  do  not  wish  their  death  ;  and  it  has  also 
happened  that  when  I  felt  my  spectre  would  have  to 
be  exorcised  on  the  following  day  by  blood,  I  have 
satisfied  it  with  a  stout  blow  of  the  fist  the  same  day, 
which  stretched  on  the  ground  the  owner  of  my  jewel, 
and  delivered  the  jewel  itself  into  my  hand.' 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDÜRL 


219 


"  Having  told  me  all  this  Cardillac  took  me  into  his 
secret  vault  and  granted  me  a  sight  of  his  jewel-cabinet ; 
and  the  king  himself  has  not  one  finer.  A  short  label 
was  attached  to  each  article,  stating  accurately  for 
whom  it  was  made,  when  it  was  recovered,  and  whether 
by  theft,  or  by  robbery  from  the  person  accompanied 
with  violence,  or  by  murder.  Then  Cardillac  said  in 
a  hollow  and  solemn  voice,  '  On  your  wedding-day, 
Olivier,  you  will  have  to  lay  your  hand  on  the  image 
of  the  crucified  Christ  and  swear  a  solemn  oath  that 
after  I  am  dead  you  will  reduce  all  these  riches  to  dust, 
through  means  which  I  shall  then,  before  I  die,  disclose 
to  you.  I  will  not  have  any  human  creature,  and  cer- 
tainly neither  Madelon  nor  you,  come  into  possession 
of  this  blood-bought  treasure-store.'  Entangled  in  this 
labyrinth  of  crime,  and  with  my  heart  lacerated  by  love 
and  abhorrence,  by  rapture  and  horror,  I  might  be 
compared  to  the  condemned  mortal  whom  a  lovely 
angel  is  beckoning  upwards  with  a  gentle  smile,  whilst 
on  the  other  hand  Satan  is  holding  him  fast  in  his 
burning  talons,  till  the  good  angel's  smiles  of  love,  in 
which  are  reflected  all  the  bliss  of  the  highest  heaven, 
become  converted  into  the  most  poignant  of  his  miseries. 
I  thought  of  flight — ay,  even  of  suicide — but  Madelon  ! 
Blame  me,  reproach  me,  honoured  lady,  for  my  too 
great  weakness  in  not  fighting  down  by  an  effort  of 
will  a  passion  that  was  fettering  me  to  crime  ;  but  am 
I  not  about  to  atone  for  my  fault  by  a  death  of  shame  ? 

"  One  day  Cardillac  came  home  in  uncommonly  good 
spirits.  He  caressed  Madelon,  greeted  me  with  the 
most  friendly  good-will,  and  at  dinner  drank  a  bottle 
of  better  wine,  of  a  brand  that  he  only  produced  on 
high  holidays  and  festivals,  and  he  also  sang  and  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  in  exuberant  manifestations  of  joy. 
When  Madelon  had  left  us  I  rose  to  return  to  the  work- 


220 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


shop.  '  Sit  still,  lad,'  said  Cardillac  ;  '  we'll  not  work 
any  more  to-day.  Let  us  drink  another  glass  together 
to  the  health  of  the  most  estimable  and  most  excellent 
lady  in  Paris.'  After  I  had  joined  glasses  with  him  and 
had  drained  mine  to  the  bottom,  he  went  on,  '  Tell  me, 
Olivier,  how  do  you  like  these  verses,' 

'  Un  amant  qui  craint  les  voleurs 
N'est  point  digne  d' amour.' 

"  Then  he  went  on  to  relate  the  episode  between  you 
and  the  king  in  De  Maintenon's  salons,  adding  that  he 
had  always  honoured  you  as  he  never  had  any  other 
human  creature,  and  that  you  were  gifted  with  such 
lofty  virtue  as  to  make  his  ill-omened  star  of  Destiny 
grow  pale,  and  that  if  you  were  to  wear  the  handsomest 
ornament  he  ever  made  it  would  never  provoke  in  him 
either  an  evil  spectre  or  murderous  thoughts.  '  Listen 
now,  Olivier,'  he  said,  'what  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  do.  A  long  time  ago  I  received  an  order  for  a  neck- 
lace and  a  pair  of  bracelets  for  Henrietta  of  England,1 
and  the  stones  were  given  me  for  the  purpose.  The 
work  turned  out  better  than  the  best  I  had  ever  pre- 
viously done  ;  but  my  heart  was  torn  at  the  thought  of 
parting  from  the  ornaments,  for  they  had  become  my 
pet  jewels.  You  are  aware  of  the  Princess's  unhappy 
death  by  sinister  means.  The  ornaments  I  retained, 
and  will  now  send  them  to  Mademoiselle  de  Scuderi 
in  the  name  of  the  persecuted  band  of  robbers  as  a 
token  of  my  respect  and  gratitude.  Not  only  will 
Mademoiselle  receive  an  eloquent  token  of  her  triumph, 
but  I  shall  also  laugh  Desgrais  and  his  associates  to 

1  Daughter  of  Charles  I.  and  Henrietta  Maria  of  France  ;  she  died 
29th  June,  1670,  believing  herself  to  have  been  poisoned  ;  and  this 
was  currently  accepted  in  France,  though  now  rejected  by  historians 
as  incorrect. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


221 


scorn,  as  they  deserve  to  be  laughed  at.  You  shall 
take  her  the  ornaments.'  As  Cardillac  mentioned  your 
name,  Mademoiselle,  I  seemed  to  see  a  dark  veil  thrown 
aside,  revealing  the  fair,  bright  picture  of  my  early 
happy  childhood  days  in  gay  and  cheerful  colours.  A 
wondrous  source  of  comfort  entered  my  soul,  a  ray  of 
hope,  before  which  all  my  dark  spirits  faded  away. 
Possibly  Cardillac  noted  the  effect  which  his  words  had 
upon  me  and  interpreted  it  in  his  own  way,  *  You  ap- 
pear to  find  pleasure  in  my  plan,'  he  said.  '  And  I  may 
as  well  state  to  you  that  I  have  been  commanded  to  do 
this  by  an  inward  monitor  deep  down  in  my  heart,  very 
different  from  that  which  demands  its  holocaust  of 
blood  like  some  ravenous  beast  of  prey.  I  often  ex- 
perience very  remarkable  feelings  ;  I  am  powerfully 
affected  by  an  inward  apprehension,  by  fear  of  some- 
thing terrible,  the  horrors  of  which  breathe  upon  me 
in  the  air  from  a  far-distant  wTorld  of  the  Supernatural. 
I  then  feel  even  as  if  the  crimes  I  commit  as  the  blind 
instrument  of  my  ill-starred  Destiny  may  be  charged 
upon  my  immortal  soul,  which  has  no  share  in  them. 
During  one  such  mood  I  vowed  to  make  a  diamond 
crown  for  the  Holy  Virgin  in  St  Eustace's  Church. 
But  so  often  as  I  thought,  seriously  about  setting  to 
work  upon  it,  I  was  overwhelmed  by  this  unaccount- 
able apprehension,  so  that  I  gave  up  the  project  alto- 
gether. Now  I  feel  as  if  I  must  humbly  offer  an  ac- 
knowledgment at  the  altar  of  virtue  and  piety  by 
sending  to  De  Scuderi  the  handsomest  ornaments  I 
have  ever  worked.' 

"  Cardillac,  who  was  intimately  acquainted  with  your 
habits  and  ways  of  life,  Mademoiselle,  gave  me  instruc- 
tions respecting  the  manner  and  the  hour — the  how  and 
the  when — in  which  I  was  to  deliver  the  ornaments, 
which  he  locked  in  an  elegant  case,  into  your  hands. 


222  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


I  was  completely  thrilled  with  delight,  for  Heaven 
itself  now  pointed  out  to  me  through  the  miscreant 
Cardillac,  a  way  by  which  I  might  rescue  myself  from 
the  hellish  thraldom  in  which  I,  a  sinner  and  outcast, 
was  slowly  perishing  ;  these  at  least  were  my  thoughts. 
In  express  opposition  to  Cardillac's  will  I  resolved  to 
force  myself  in  to  an  interview  with  you.  I  intended  to 
reveal  myself  as  Anne  Brusson's  son,  as  your  own 
adoptive  child,  and  to  throw  myself  at  your  feet  and 
confess  all—  all.  I  knew  that  you  would  have  been  so 
touched  by  the  overwhelming  misery  which  would  have 
threatened  poor  innocent  Madelon  by  any  disclosure 
that  you  would  have  respected  the  secret ;  whilst  your 
keen,  sagacious  mind  would,  I  felt  assured,  have  devised 
some  means  by  which  Cardillac's  infamous  wickedness 
might  have  been  prevented  without  any  exposure. 
Pray  do  not  ask  me  what  shape  these  means  would 
have  taken  ;  I  do  not  know.  But  that  you  would  save 
Madelon  and  me,  of  that  I  was  most  firmly  convinced, 
as  firmly  as  I  believe  in  the  comfort  and  help  of  the 
Holy  Virgin.  You  know  how  my  intention  was  frus- 
trated that  night,  Mademoiselle.  I  still  cherished  the 
hope  of  being  more  successful  another  time.  Soon 
after  this  Cardillac  seemed  suddenly  to  lose  all  his 
good-humour.  He  went  about  with  a  cloudy  brow, 
fixed  his  eyes  on  vacancy  in  front  of  him,  murmured 
unintelligible  words,  and  gesticulated  with  his  hands, 
as  if  warding  off  something  hostile  from  him  ;  his  mind 
appeared  to  be  tormented  by  evil  thoughts.  Thus  he 
behaved  during  the  course  of  one  whole  morning. 
Finally  he  sat  down  to  his  work-table  ;  but  he  soon 
leapt  up  again  peevishly  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
saying  moodily  and  earnestly,  1  I  wish  after  all  that 
Henrietta  of  England  had  worn  my  ornaments.'  These 
words  struck  terror  to  my  heart.    Now  I  knew  that  his 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


warped  mind  was  again  enslaved  by  the  abominable 
spectre  of  murder,  and  that  the  voice  of  the  fiend  was 
again  ringing  audibly  in  his  ears.  I  saw  your  life  was 
threatened  by  the  villainous  demon  of  murder.  If  Car- 
dillac  only  had  his  ornaments  in  his  hands  again,  you 
were  saved. 

"Every  moment  the  danger  increased.  Then  I  met 
you  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  and  forced  my  way  to  your  car- 
riage, and  threw  you  that  note,  beseeching  you  to  re- 
store the  ornaments  which  you  had  received  to  Cardil- 
lac's  hands  at  once.  You  did  not  come.  My  distress 
deepened  to  despair  when  on  the  following  day  Cardil- 
lac  talked  about  nothing  else  but  the  magnificent  orna- 
ments which  he  had  seen  before  his  eyes  during  the 
night.  I  could  only  interpret  that  as  having  reference 
to  your  jewellery,  and  I  was  certain  that  he  was  brood- 
ing over  some  fresh  murderous  onslaught  which  he  had 
assuredly  determined  to  put  into  execution  during  the 
coming  night.  I  must  save  you,  even  if  it  cost  Cardil- 
lac's  own  life.  So  soon  as  he  had  locked  himself  in 
his  own  room  after  evening  prayers,  according  to  his 
wont,  I  climbed  out  of  a  window  into  the  court-yard, 
slipped  through  the  opening  in  the  wall,  and  took  up 
my  station  at  no  great  distance,  hidden  in  the  deep 
shade.  I  had  not  long  to  wait  before  Cardillac  appeared 
and  stole  softly  up  the  street,  me  following  him.  He 
bent  his  steps  towards  the  Rue  St.  Honoree  ;  my  heart 
trembled  with  apprehension.  All  of  a  sudden  I  lost 
sight  of  him.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  take  post  at  your 
house-door.  Then  there  came  an  officer  past  me,  with- 
out perceiving  me,  singing  and  gaily  humming  a  tune 
to  himself,  as  on  the  occasion  when  chance  first  made 
me  a  witness  of  Cardillac's  bloody  deeds.  But  that 
selfsame  moment  a  dark  figure  leapt  forward  and  fell 
upon  the  officer.    It  was  Cardillac.    This  murder  I 


224 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


would  at  any  rate  prevent.  With  a  loud  shout  I  reached 
the  spot  in  two  or  three  bounds,  when,  not  the  officer, 
but  Cardillac,  fell  on  the  floor  groaning.  The  officer 
let  his  dagger  fall,  and  drawing  his  sword  put  himself 
in  a  posture  for  fighting,  imagining  that  I  was  the  mur- 
derer's accomplice  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  I  was  only- 
concerned  about  the  slain  man,  and  did  not  trouble 
myself  about  him,  he  hurried  away.  Cardillac  was 
still  alive.  After  picking  up  and  taking  charge  of  the 
dagger  which  the  officer  had  let  fall,  I  loaded  my  mas- 
ter upon  my  shoulders  and  painfully  hugged  him  home, 
carrying  him  up  to  the  workshop  by  way  of  the  con- 
cealed stairs.    The  rest  you  know. 

"  You  see,  honoured  lady,  that  my  only  crime  con- 
sists in  the  fact  that  I  did  not  betray  Madelon's  father 
to  the  officers  of  the  law,  and  so  put  an  end  to  his 
enormities.  My  hands  are  clean  of  any  deed  of  blood. 
No  torture  shall  extort  from  me  a  confession  of  Car- 
dillac's  crimes.  I  will  not,  in  defiance  of  the  Eternal 
Power,  which  veiled  the  father's  hideous  bloodguiltiness 
from  the  eyes  of  the  virtuous  daughter,  be  instrumental 
in  unfolding  all  the  misery  of  the  past,  which  would 
now  have  a  far  more  disastrous  effect  upon  her,  nor  do 
I  wish  to  aid  worldly  vengeance  in  rooting  up  the  dead 
man  from  the  earth  which  covers  him,  nor  that  the  ex- 
ecutioner should  now  brand  the  mouldering  bones  with 
dishonour.  No  ;  the  beloved  of  my  soul  will  weep  for 
me  as  one  who  has  fallen  innocent,  and  time  will  soften 
her  sorrow  ;  but  how  irretrievable  a  shock  would  it  be 
if  she  learnt  of  the  fearful  and  diabolical  deeds  of  her 
dearly-loved  father." 

Olivier  paused  ;  but  now  a  torrent  of  tears  suddenly 
burst  from  his  eyes,  and  he  threw  himself  at  De  Scu- 
deri's  feet  imploringly.  "  Oh  !  now  you  are  con- 
vinced of  my  innocence — oh  !  surely  you  must  be  ! 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL. 


225 


have  pity  upon  me  ;  tell  me  how  my  Madelon  bears 
it."  Mademoiselle  summoned  La  Martiniere,  and  in 
a  few  moments  more  Madelon's  arms  were  round 
Olivier's  neck.  "  Now  all  is  well  again  since  you  are 
here.  I  knew  it,  I  knew  this  most  noble-minded  lady 
would  save  you,"  cried  Madelon  again  and  again  ;  and 
Olivier  forgot  his  situation  and  all  that  was  impending 
over  him,  he  was  free  and  happy.  It  was  most  touch- 
ing to  hear  the  two  mutually  pour  out  all  their  troubles, 
and  relate  all  that  they  had  suffered  for  one  another's 
sake  ;  then  they  embraced  one  another  anew,  and  wept 
with  joy  to  see  each  other  again. 

If  De  Scuderi  had  not  been  already  convinced  of 
Olivier's  innocence  she  would  assuredly  have  been 
satisfied  of  it  now  as  she  sat  watching  the  two,  who 
forgot  the  world  and  their  misery  and  their  excessive 
sufferings  in  the  happiness  of  their  deep  and  genuine 
mutual  affection.  "No,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  is 
only  a  pure  heart  which  is  capable  of  such  happy 
oblivion." 

The  bright  beams  of  morning  broke  in  through  the 
window.  Desgrais  knocked  softly  at  the  room  door, 
and  reminded  those  within  that  it  was  time  to  take 
Olivier  Brusson  away,  since  this  could  not  be  done 
later  without  exciting  a  commotion.  The  lovers  were 
obliged  to  separate. 

The  dim  shapeless  feelings  which  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  De  Scuderi's  mind  on  Olivier's  first  entry  into 
the  room,  had  now  acquired  form  and  content — and 
in  a  fearful  way.  She  saw  the  son  of  her  dear  Anne 
innocently  entangled  in  such  a  way  that  there  hardly 
seemed  any  conceivable  means  of  saving  him  from  a 
shameful  death.  She  honoured  the  young  man's  heroic 
purpose  in  choosing  to  die  under  an  unjust  burden  of 
guilt  rather  than  divulge  a  secret  that  would  certainly 
Vol.  II.— 15 


226  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


kill  his  Madelon.  In  the  whole  region  of  possibility- 
she  could  not  find  any  means  whatever  to  snatch  the 
poor  fellow  out  of  the  hands  of  the  cruel  tribunal. 
And  yet  she  had  a  most  clear  conception  that  she 
ought  not  to  hesitate  at  any  sacrifice  to  avert  this 
monstrous  perversion  of  justice  which  was  on  the 
point  of  being  committed.  She  racked  her  brain  with 
a  hundred  different  schemes  and  plans,  some  of  which 
bordered  upon  the  extravagant,  but  all  these  she  re- 
jected almost  as  soon  as  they  suggested  themselves. 
Meanwhile  the  rays  of  hope  grew  fainter  and  fainter, 
till  at  last  she  was  on  the  verge  of  despair.  But  Ma- 
delon's  unquestioning  child-like  confidence,  the  rap- 
turous enthusiasm  with  which  she  spoke  of  her  lover, 
who  now,  absolved  of  all  guilt,  would  soon  clasp  her 
in  his  arms  as  his  bride,  infused  De  Scuderi  with  new 
hope  and  courage,  exactly  in  proportion  as  she  was  the 
more  touched  by  the  girl's  words. 

At  length,  for  the  sake  of  doing  something,  De 
Scuderi  wrote  a  long  letter  to  La  Regnie,  in  which 
she  informed  him  that  Olivier  Brusson  had  proved  to 
her  in  the  most  convincing  manner  his  perfect  inno- 
cence of  Cardillac's  death,  and  that  it  was  only  his 
heroic  resolve  to  carry  with  him  into  the  grave  a  secret, 
the  revelation  of  which  would  entail  disaster  upon 
virtue  and  innocence,  that  prevented  him  making  a 
revelation  to  the  court  which  would  undoubtedly  free 
him,  not  only  from  the  fearful  suspicion  of  having 
murdered  Cardillac,  but  also  of  having  belonged  to  a 
band  of  vile  assassins.  De  Scuderi  did  all  that  burning 
zeal,  that  ripe  and  spirited  eloquence  could  effect,  to 
soften  La  Re^nie's  hard  heart.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
hours  La  Regnie  replied  that  he  was  heartily  glad  to 
learn  that  Olivier  Brusson  had  justified  himself  so  com. 
pletely  in  the  eyes  of  his  noble  and  honoured  protec- 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD  ERL 


227 


tress.  As  for  Olivier's  heroic  resolve  to  carry  with 
him  into  the  grave  a  secret  that  had  an  important 
bearing  upon  the  crime  under  investigation,  he  was 
sorry  to  say  that  the  Chambre  Ardente  could  not  respect 
such  heroic  courage,  but  would  rather  be  compelled 
to  adopt  the  strongest  means  to  break  it.  At  the  end 
of  three  days  he  hoped  to  be  in  possession  of  this  ex- 
traordinary secret,  which  it  might  be  presumed  would 
bring  wonders  to  light. 

De  Scuderi  knew  only  too  well  whr.t  those  means 
were  by  which  the  savage  La  Regnie  intended  to  break 
Brusson's  heroic  constancy.  She  was  now  sure  that 
the  unfortunate  was  threatened  with  the  rack.  In  her 
desperate  anxiety  it  at  length  occurred  to  her  that  the 
advice  of  a  doctor  of  the  law  would  be  useful,  if  only 
to  effectuate  a  postponement  of  the  torture.  The  most 
renowned  advocate  in  Paris  at  that  time  was  Pierre 
Arnaud  d'Andilly  ;  and  his  sound  knowledge  and  lib- 
eral mind  were  only  to  be  compared  to  his  virtue  and 
his  sterling  honesty.  To  him,  therefore,  De  Scuderi 
had  recourse,  and  she  told  him  all,  so  far  as  she  could, 
without  violating  Brusson's  secret.  She  expected  that 
D'Andilly  would  take  up  the  cause  of  the  innocent 
man  with  zeal,  but  she  found  her  hopes  most  bitterly 
deceived.  The  lawyer  listened  calmly  to  all  she  had 
to  say,  and  then  replied  in  Boileau's  words,  smiling  as  he 
did  so,  " Le  vrai peut  quelque  fois  nctre pas  vraiseinblable" 
(Sometimes  truth  wears  an  improbable  garb).  He 
showed  De  Scuderi  that  there  were  most  noteworthy 
grounds  for  suspicion  against  Brusson,  that  La  Reg- 
nie's  proceedings  could  neither  be  called  cruel  nor  yet 
hurried,  rather  they  were  perfectly  within  the  law — 
nay,  that  he  could  not  act  otherwise  without  detriment 
to  his  duties  as  judge.  He  himself  did  not  see  his  way 
to  saving  Brusson  from  torture,  even  by  the  cleverest 


228 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


defence.  Nobody  but  Brusson  himself  could  avert  it, 
either  by  a  candid  confession  or  at  least  by  a  most 
detailed  account  of  all  the  circumstances  attending 
Cardillac's  murder,  and  this  might  then  perhaps  fur- 
nish grounds  for  instituting  fresh  inquiries.  "  Then  I 
will  throw  myself  at  the  king's  feet  and  pray  for  mercy,' 
said  De  Scuderi,  distracted,  her  voice  half  choked  by 
tears.  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  do  it,  Mademoiselle, 
don't  do  it.  I  would  advise  you  to  reserve  this  last 
resource,  for  if  it  once  fail  it  is  lost  to  you  for  ever. 
The  king  will  never  pardon  a  criminal  of  this  class ;  he 
would  draw  down  upon  himself  the  bitterest  reproaches 
of  the  people,  who  would  believe  their  lives  were 
always  in  danger.  Possibly  Brusson,  either  by  disclos- 
ing his  secret  or  by  some  other  means,  may  find  a  way 
to  allay  the  suspicions  which  are  working  against  him. 
Then  will  be  the  time  to  appeal  to  the  king  for  mercy, 
for  he  will  not  inquire  what  has  been  proved  before 
the  court,  but  be  guided  by  his  own  inner  conviction." 
De  Scuderi  had  no  help  for  it  but  to  admit  that 
D'Andilly  with  his  great  experience  was  in  the  right. 

Late  one  evening  she  was  sitting  in  her  own  room 
in  very  great  trouble,  appealing  to  the  Virgin  and  the 
Holy  Saints,  and  thinking  whatever  should  she  do  to 
save  the  unhappy  Brusson,  when  La  Martiniere  came 
in  to  announce  that  Count  de  Miossens,  colonel  of 
the  King's  Guards,  was  urgently  desiring  to  speak  to 
Mademoiselle. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Miossens,  bowing 
with  military  grace,  "  pardon  me  for  intruding  upon 
you  so  late,  at  such  an  inconvenient  hour.  We  soldiers 
cannot  do  as  we  like,  and  then  a  couple  of  words  will 
suffice  to  excuse  me.  It  is  on  Olivier  Brusson's  account 
that  I  have  come."  De  Scuderi's  attention  was  at  once 
on  the  stretch  as  to  what  was  to  follow,  and  she  said, 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL  229 


"  Olivier  Brusson  ? — that  most  unhappy  of  mortals  ? 
What  have  you  to  do  with  him?"  "  Yes,  I  did  indeed 
think,"  continued  Miossens  smiling,  "  that  your  proteges 
name  would  be  sufficient  to  procure  me  a  favourable 
hearing.  All  the  public  are  convinced  of  Brusson's 
guilt.  But  you,  I  know,  cling  to  another  opinion, 
which  is  based,  to  be  sure,  upon  the  protestations  of 
the  accused,  as  it  is  said  ;  with  me,  however,  it  is  other- 
wise. Nobody  can  be  more  firmly  convinced  that 
Brusson  is  innocent  of  Cardillac's  death  than  I  am." 
"Oh  !  go  on  and  tell  me  ;  go  on,  pray  ! "  exclaimed  De 
Scuderi,  whilst  her  eyes  sparkled  with  delight.  Mios- 
sens continued,  speaking  with  emphasis,  "  It  was  I — I 
who  stabbed  the  old  goldsmith  not  far  from  your  house 
here  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore."  "  By  the  Saints  ! — you 
— you  ?"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle.  "And  I  swear  to 
you,  Mademoiselle,"  went  on  Miossens,  "  that  I  am 
proud  of  the  deed.  For  let  me  tell  you  that  Cardillac 
was  the  most  abandoned  and  hypocritical  of  villains, 
that  it  was  he  who  committed  those  dreadful  murders 
and  robberies  by  night,  and  so  long  escaped  all  traps 
laid  for  him.  Somehow,  I  can't  say  how,  a  strong  feel- 
ing of  suspicion  was  aroused  in  my  mind  against  the 
old  reprobate  when  he  brought  me  an  ornament  I  had 
ordered  and  was  so  visibly  disturbed  on  giving  it  to  me  ; 
and  then  he  inquired  particularly  for  whom  I  wanted 
the  ornament,  and  also  questioned  my  valet  in  the  most 
artful  way  as  to  when  I  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  a 
certain  lady.  I  had  long  before  noticed  that  all  the 
unfortunates  who  fell  victims  to  this  abominable  epi- 
demic of  murder  and  robbery  bore  one  and  the  same 
wound.  I  felt  sure  that  the  assassin  had  by  practice 
grown  perfect  in  inflicting  it,  and  that  it  must  prove 
instantaneously  fatal,  and  upon  this  he  relied  implicitly. 
If  it  failed,  then  it  would  come  to  a  fight  on  equal 


230  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


terms.  This  led  me  to  adopt  a  measure  of  precaution 
which  is  so  simple  that  I  cannot  comprehend  why  it 
did  not  occur  to  others,  who  might  then  have  safe- 
guarded themselves  against  any  murderous  assault  that 
threatened  them.  I  wore  a  light  shirt  of  mail  under 
my  tunic.  Cardillac  attacked  me  from  behind.  He 
laid  hold  upon  me  with  the  strength  of  a  giant,  but  the 
surely-aimed  blow  glanced  aside  from  the  iron.  That 
same  moment  I  wrested  myself  free  from  his  grasp,  and 
drove  my  dagger,  which  I  held  in  readiness,  into  his 
heart."  "And  you  maintained  silence?"  asked  De 
Scuderi ;  "you  did  not  notify  to  the  tribunals  what  you 
had  done  ?  "  "  Permit  me  to  remark,"  went  on  Mios- 
sens,  "permit  me  to  remark,  Mademoiselle,  that  such 
an  announcement,  if  it  had  not  at  once  entailed  disas- 
trous results  upon  me,  would  at  any  rate  have  involved 
me  in  a  most  detestable  trial.  Would  La  Regnie,  who 
ferrets  out  crime  everywhere — would  he  have  believed 
my  unsupported  word  if  I  had  accused  honest  Cardillac, 
the  pattern  of  piety  and  virtue,  of  an  attempted  mur- 
der ?  What  if  the  sword  of  justice  had  turned  its  point 
against  me?"    "  That  would  not  have  been  possible," 

said  De  Scuderi,  "  your  birth — your  rank  "   "  Oh  ! 

remember  Marshal  de  Luxembourg,  whose  wThim  for 
having  his  horoscope  cast  by  Le  Sage  brought  him 
under  the  suspicion  of  being  a  poisoner,  and  eventually 
into  the  Bastille.  No  !  by  St.  Denis  !  I  would  not  risk 
my  freedom  for  an  hour — not  even  the  lappet  of  my  ear 
— in  the  power  of  that  madman  La  Regnie,  who  only 
too  well  would  like  to  have  his  knife  at  the  throats  of 
all  of  us."  "  But  do  you  know  you  are  bringing  inno- 
cent Brusson  to  the  scaffold  ? "  "  Innocent  ?  "  rejoined 
Miossens,  "innocent  ?  Are  you  speaking  of  the  villain 
Cardillac's  accomplice,  Mademoiselle  ?  he  who  helped 
him  in  his  evil  deeds?  who  deserves  to  die  a  hundred 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


231 


deaths?  No,  indeed!  He  would  meet  a  just  end  on 
the  scaffold.  I  have  only  disclosed  to  you,  honoured 
lady,  the  details  of  the  occurrence  on  the  presupposi- 
tion that,  without  delivering  me  into  the  hands  of  the 
Chambre  Ardent:,  you  will  yet  find  a  way  to  turn  my 
secret  to  account  on  behalf  of  your  protege." 

De  Scuderi  was  so  enraptured  at  finding  her  convic- 
tion of  Brusson's  innocence  confirmed  in  such  a  decisive 
manner  that  she  did  not  scruple  to  tell  the  Count  all, 
since  he  already  knew  of  Cardillac's  iniquity,  and  to 
exhort  him  to  accompany  her  to  see  D'Andilly.  To 
him  all  should  be  revealed  under  the  seal  of  secrecy, 
and  he  should  advise  them  what  was  to  be  done. 

After  De  Scuderi  had  related  all  to  D'Andilly  down 
to  the  minutest  particulars,  he  inquired  once  more 
about  several  of  the  most  insignificant  features.  In 
particular  he  asked  Count  Miossens  whether  he  was 
perfectly  satisfied  that  it  was  Cardillac  who  had  attacked 
him,  and  whether  he  would  be  able  to  identify  Olivier 
Brusson  as  the  man  who  had  carried  away  the  corpse. 
De  Miossens  made  answer,  "Not  only  did  I  very  well 
recognise  Cardillac  by  the  bright  light  of  the  moon, 
but  I  have  also  seen  in  La  Regnie's  hands  the  dagger 
with  which  Cardillac  was  stabbed  ;  it  is  mine,  distin- 
guished by  the  elegant  workmanship  of  the  hilt.  As  I 
only  stood  one  yard  from  the  young  man,  and  his  hat 
had  fallen  off,  I  distinctly  saw  his  features,  and  should 
certainly  recognise  him  again." 

After  gazing  thoughtfully  before  him  for  some  min- 
utes in  silence,  D'Andilly  said,  "Brusson  cannot  pos- 
sibly be  saved  from  the  hands  of  justice  in  any  ordinary 
and  regular  way.  Out  of  consideration  for  Madelon  he 
refuses  to  accuse  Cardillac  of  being  the  thievish  assas- 
sin. And  he  must  continue  to  do  so,  for  even  if  he 
succeeded  in  proving  his  statements  by  pointing  out 


232 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


the  secret  exit  and  the  accumulated  store  of  stolen 
jewellery,  he  would  still  be  liable  to  death  as  a  partner 
in  Cardillac's  guilt.  And  the  bearings  of  things  would 
not  be  altered  if  Count  Miossens  were  to  state  to  the 
judges  the  real  details  of  the  meeting  with  Cardillac. 
The  only  thing  we  can  aim  at  securing  is  a  postpone- 
ment of  the  torture.  Let  Count  Miossens  go  to  the 
Conciergerie,  have  Olivier  Brusson  brought  forward,  and 
recognise  in  him  the  man  who  carried  away  Cardillac's 
dead  body.  Then  let  him  hurry  off  to  La  Regnie  and 
say,  '  I  saw  a  man  stabbed  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  and 
as  I  stood  close  beside  the  corpse  another  man  sprang 
forward  and  stooped  down  over  the  dead  body  ;  but  on 
finding  signs  of  life  in  him  he  lifted  him  on  his  shoul- 
ders and  carried  him  away.  This  man  I  recognise  in 
Olivier  Brusson.'  This  evidence  would  lead  to  another 
hearing  of  Brusson  and  to  his  confrontation  with  Mios- 
sens. At  all  events  the  torture  would  be  delayed  and 
further  inquiries  would  be  instituted.  Then  will  come 
the  proper  time  to  appeal  to  the  king.  It  may  be  left 
to  your  sagacity,  Mademoiselle,  to  do  this  in  the 
adroitest  manner.  As  far  as  my  opinion  goes,  I  think 
it  would  be  best  to  disclose  to  him  the  whole  mystery. 
Brusson's  confessions  are  borne  out  by  this  statement 
of  Count  Miossens  ;  and  they  may,  perhaps,  be  still 
further  substantiated  by  secret  investigations  at  Car- 
dillac's own  house.  All  this  could  not  afford  grounds 
for  a  verdict  of  acquittal  by  the  court,  but  it  might 
appeal  to  the  king's  feelings,  that  it  is  his  prerogative 
to  speak  mercy  where  the  judge  can  only  condemn, 
and  so  elicit  a  favourable  decision  from  His  Majesty." 
Count  Miossens  followed  implicitly  D'Andilly's  advice  ; 
and  the  result  was  what  the  latter  had  foreseen. 

But  now  the  thing  was  to  get  at  the  king  ;  and  this 
was  the  most  difficult  part  of  all  to  accomplish,  since 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


233 


he  believed  that  Brusson  alone  was  the  formidable 
assassin  who  for  so  long  a  time  had  held  all  Paris  en- 
thralled by  fear  and  anxiety,  and  accordingly  he  had 
conceived  such  an  abhorrence  of  him  that  he  burst  into 
a  violent  fit  of  passion  at  the  slightest  allusion  to  the 
notorious  trial.  De  Maintenon,  faithful  to  her  principle 
of  never  speaking  to  the  king  on  any  subject  that  was 
disagreeable,  refused  to  take  any  steps  in  the  affair  ; 
and  so  Brusson's  fate  rested  entirely  in  De  Scuderi's 
hands.  After  long  deliberation  she  formed  a  resolution 
which  she  carried  into  execution  as  promptly  as  she 
had  conceived  it.  Putting  on  a  robe  of  heavy  black 
silk,  and  hanging  Cardillac's  valuable  necklace  round 
her  neck,  and  clasping  the  bracelets  on  her  arms,  and 
throwing  a  black  veil  over  her  head,  she  presented  her- 
self in  De  Maintenon's  salons  at  a  time  when  she  knew 
the  king  would  be  present  there.  This  stately  robe 
invested  the  venerable  lady's  noble  figure  with  such 
majesty  as  could  not  fail  to  inspire  respect,  even  in  the 
mob  of  idle  loungers  who  were  wont  to  collect  in  ante- 
rooms, laughing  and  jesting  in  frivolous  and  irreverent 
fashion.  They  all  shyly  made  way  for  her  ;  and  when 
she  entered  the  salon  the  king  himself  in  his  astonish- 
ment rose  and  came  to  meet  her.  As  his  eyes  fell  upon 
the  glitter  of  the  costly  diamonds  in  the  necklace  and 
bracelets,  he  cried,  "  Ton  my  soul,  that's  Cardillac's 
jewellery  !  "  Then,  turning  to  De  Maintenon,  he  added 
with  an  arch  smile,  "See,  Marchioness,  how  our  fair 
bride  mourns  for  her  bridegroom."  "Oh!  your  Maj- 
esty," broke  in  De  Scuderi,  taking  up  the  jest  and  car- 
rying it  on,  "would  it  indeed  beseem  a  deeply  sorrowful 
bride  to  adorn  herself  in  this  splendid  fashion  ?  No,  I 
have  quite  broken  off  with  that  goldsmith,  and  should 
never  think  about  him  more,  were  it  not  that  the  horrid 
recollection  of  him  being  carried  past  me  after  he  had 


234 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


been  murdered  so  often  recurs  to  my  mind."  "What 
do  you  say?"  asked  the  king.  "What!  you  saw  the 
poor  devil  ?"  De  Scuderi  now  related  in  a  few  words 
how  she  chanced  to  be  near  Cardillac's  house  just  as 
the  murder  was  discovered — as  yet  she  did  not  allude 
to  Brusson's  being  mixed  up  in  the  matter.  She 
sketched  Madelon's  excessive  grief,  told  what  a  deep 
impression  the  angelic  child  made  upon  her,  and  de- 
scribed in  what  way  she  had  rescued  the  poor  girl  out 
of  Desgrais'  hands,  amid  the  approving  shouts  of  the 
people.  Then  came  the  scenes  with  La  Regnie,  with 
Desgrais,  with  Brusson — the  interest  deepening  and 
intensifying  from  moment  to  moment.  The  king  was 
so  carried  away  by  the  extraordinary  graphic  power 
and  burning  eloquence  of  Mademoiselle's  narration 
that  he  did  not  perceive  she  was  talking  about  the 
hateful  trial  of  the  abominable  wretch  Brusson  ;  he 
was  quite  unable  to  utter  a  word  ;  all  he  could  do  was 
to  let  off  the  excess  of  his  emotion  by  an  exclamation 
from  time  to  time.  Ere  he  knew  where  he  was — he 
was  so  utterly  confused  by  this  unprecedented  tale 
which  he  had  heard  that  he  was  unable  to  order  his 
thoughts — De  Scuderi  was  prostrate  at  his  feet,  implor- 
ing pardon  for  Olivier  Brusson.  "What  are  you  doing  ?" 
burst  out  the  king,  taking  her  by  both  hands  and  forcing 
her  into  a  chair.  "  What  do  you  mean,  Mademoiselle  ? 
This  is  a  strange  way  to  surprise  me.  Oh  !  it's  a  ter- 
rible story.  Who  will  guarantee  me  that  Brusson's  mar- 
vellous tale  is  true  ?"  Whereupon  De  Scuderi  replied, 
"  Miossens'  evidence — an  examination  of  Cardillac's 
house — my  heart-felt  conviction — and  oh  !  Madelon's 
virtuous  heart,  which  recognised  the  like  virtue  in  un- 
happy Brusson's."  Just  as  the  king  was  on  the  point 
of  making  some  reply  he  was  interrupted  by  a  noise  at 
the  door,  and  turned  round.    Louvois,  who  during  tins 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


time  was  working  in  the  adjoining  apartment,  looked 
in  with  an  expression  of  anxiety  stamped  upon  his 
features.  The  king  rose  and  left  the  room,  following 
Louvois. 

The  two  ladies,  both  De  Scuderi  and  De  Maintenon, 
regarded  this  interruption  as  dangerous,  for  having 
been  once  surprised  the  king  would  be  on  his  guard 
against  falling  a  second  time  into  the  trap  set  for  him. 
Nevertheless  after  a  lapse  of  some  minutes  the  king 
came  back  again  ;  after  traversing  the  room  once  or 
twice  at  a  quick  pace,  he  planted  himself  immediately 
in  front  of  De  Scuderi  and,  throwing  his  arms  behind 
his  back,  said  in  almost  an  undertone,  yet  without 
looking  at  her,  "  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  your 
Madelon."  Mademoiselle  replied,  "  Oh  !  my  precious 
liege  !  what  a  great — great  happiness  your  condescen- 
sion will  confer  upon  the  poor  unhappy  child.  Oh  ! 
the  little  girl  only  waits  a  sign  from  you  to  approach,  to 
throw  herself  at  your  feet."  Then  she  tripped  towards 
the  door  as  quickly  as  she  was  able  in  her  heavy  cloth- 
ing, and  called  out  on  the  outside  of  it  that  the  king 
would  admit  Madelon  Cardillac  ;  and  she  came  back 
into  the  room  weeping  and  sobbing  with  overpowering 
delight  and  gladness. 

De  Scuderi  had  foreseen  that  some  such  favour  as 
this  might  be  granted  and  so  had  brought  Madelon 
along  with  her,  and  she  was  waiting  with  the  Mar- 
chioness' lady-in-waiting  with  a  short  petition  in  her 
hands  that  had  been  drawn  up  by  D'Andilly.  After 
a  few  minutes  she  lay  prostrate  at  the  king's  feet, 
unable  to  speak  a  word.  The  throbbing  blood  was 
driven  quicker  and  faster  through  the  poor  girl's  veins 
owing  to  anxiety,  nervous  confusion,  shy  reverence, 
love,  and  anguish.  Her  cheeks  were  died  with  a  deep 
purple  blush  ;  her  eyes  shone  with  bright  pearly  tears, 


236  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


which  from  time  to  time  fell  through  her  silken  eye- 
lashes upon  her  beautiful  lily-white  bosom.  The  king 
appeared  to  be  struck  with  the  surprising  beauty  of  the 
angelic  creature.  He  softly  raised  her  up,  making  a 
motion  as  if  about  to  kiss  the  hand  which  he  had 
grasped.  But  he  let  it  go  again  and  regarded  the 
lovely  girl  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  thus  betraying  how 
great  was  the  emotion  stirring  within  him.  De  Main- 
tenon  softly  whispered  to  Mademoiselle,  "  Isn't  she 
exactly  like  La  Valliere,1  the  little  thing  ?  There's 
hardly  a  pin's  difference  between  them.  The  king 
luxuriates  in  the  most  pleasing  memories.  Your  cause 
is  won." 

Notwithstanding  the  low  tone  in  which  De  Main- 
tenon  spoke,  the  king  appeared  to  have  heard  what 
she  said.  A  fleeting^ blush  passed  across  his  face  ;  his 
eye  wandered  past  De  Maintenon  ;  he  read  the  peti- 
tion which  Madelon  had  presented  to  him,  and  then 
said  mildly  and  kindly,  "  I  am  quite  ready  to  believe, 
my  dear  child,  that  you  are  convinced  of  your  lover's 
innocence  ;  but  let  us  hear  what  the  Chambre  Ardente 
has  got  to  say  to  it."  With  a  gentle  wave  of  the 
hand  he  dismissed  the  young  girl,  who  was  weeping  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

To  her  dismay  De  Scuderi  observed  that  the  recol- 
lection of  La  Valliere,  however  beneficial  it  had  ap- 
peared to  be  at  first,  had  occasioned  the  king  to  alter 
his  mind  as  soon  as  De  Maintenon  mentioned  her 
name.  Perhaps  the  king  felt  he  was  being  reminded 
in  a  too  indelicate  way  of  how  he  was  about  to  sacrifice 
strict  justice  to  beauty,  or  perhaps  he  was  like  the 


1  Frangoise  Louise,  Duchess  de  La  Valliere,  a  former  mistress  of 
Louis  XIV.  On  being  supplanted  in  the  monarch's  favour  by  Madame 
de  Montespan,  she  entered  the  order  of  Carmelite  nuns. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERL 


237 


dreamer,  when,  on  somebody's  shouting  to  him,  the 
lovely  dream-images  which  he  was  about  to  clasp, 
quickly  vanish  away.  Perhaps  he  no  longer  saw  his 
La  Valliere  before  his  eyes,  but  only  thought  of  Sceur 
Louise  de  la  Misericorde  (Louise  the  Sister  of  Mercy), 
— the  name  La  Valliere  had  assumed  on  joining  the 
Carmelite  nuns — who  worried  him  with  her  pious  airs 
and  repentance.  What  else  could  they  now  do  but 
calmly  wait  for  the  king's  decision  ? 

Meanwhile  Count  Miossens'  deposition  before  the 
Chambre  Ardente  had  become  publicly  known  ;  and  as 
it  frequently  happens  that  the  people  rush  so  readily 
from  one  extreme  to  another,  so  on  this  occasion  he 
whom  they  had  at  first  cursed  as  a  most  abominable 
murderer  and  had  threatened  to  tear  to  pieces,  they 
now  pitied,  even  before  he  ascended  the  scaffold,  as 
the  innocent  victim  of  barbarous  justice.  Now  his 
neighbours  first  began  to  call  to  mind  his  exemplary 
walk  of  life,  his  great  love  for  Madelon,  and  the  faith- 
fulness and  touching  submissive  affection  which  he 
had  cherished  for  the  old  goldsmith.  Considerable 
bodies  of  the  populace  began  to  appear  in  a  threatening 
manner  before  La  Regnie's  palace  and  to  cry  out, 
"  Give  us  Olivier  Brusson  ;  he  is  innocent  ;"  and  they 
even  stoned  the  windows,  so  that  La  Regnie  was 
obliged  to  seek  shelter  from  the  enraged  mob  with  the 
Marechaussce. 

Several  days  passed,  and  Mademoiselle  heard  not  the 
least  intelligence  about  Olivier  Brusson's  trial.  She 
was  quite  inconsolable  and  went  off  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon  ;  but  she  assured  her  that  the  king  main- 
tained a  strict  silence  about  the  matter,  and  it  would 
not  be  advisable  to  remind  him  of  it.  Then  when  she 
went  on  to  ask  with  a  smile  of  singular  import  how  little 
La  Valliere  was  doing,  De  Scuderi  was  convinced  that 


238  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RL 


deep  down  in  the  heart  of  the  proud  lady  there  lurked 
some  feeling  of  vexation  at  this  business,  which  might 
entice  the  susceptible  king  into  a  region  whose  charm 
she  could  not  understand.  Mademoiselle  need  there- 
fore hope  for  nothing  from  De  Maintenon. 

At  last,  however,  with  D'Andilly's  help,  De  Scuderi 
succeeded  in  finding  out  that  the  king  had  had  a  long 
and  private  interview  with  Count  Miossens.  Further, 
she  learned  that  Bontems,  the  king's  most  confidential 
valet  and  general  agent,  had  been  to  the  Conciergerie 
and  had  an  interview  with  Brusson,  also  that  the  same 
Bontems  had  one  night  gone  with  several  men  to 
Cardillac's  house,  and  there  spent  a  considerable  time. 
Claude  Patru,  the  man  who  inhabited  the  lower  storey, 
maintained  that  they  were  knocking  about  overhead 
all  night  long,  and  he  was  sure  that  Olivier  had  been 
with  them,  for  he  distinctly  heard  his  voice.  This 
much  was,  therefore,  at  any  rate  certain,  that  the  king 
himself  was  having  the  true  history  of  the  circum- 
stances inquired  into  ;  but  the  long  delay  before  he 
gave  his  decision  was  inexplicable.  La  Regnie  would 
no  doubt  do  all  he  possibly  could  to  keep  his  grip  upon 
the  victim  who  was  to  be  taken  out  of  his  clutches. 
And  this  annihilated  every  hope  as  soon  as  it  began  to 
bud. 

A  month  had  nearly  passed  when  De  Maintenon  sent 
word  to  Mademoiselle  that  the  king  wished  to  see  her 
that  evening  in  her  salons. 

De  Scuderi's  heart  beat  high  ;  she  knew  that  Brus- 
son's  case  would  now  be  decided.  She  told  poor 
Madelon  so,  who  prayed  fervently  to  the  Virgin  and 
the  saints  that  they  would  awaken  in  the  king's  mind 
a  conviction  of  Brusson's  innocence. 

Yet  it  appeared  as  though  the  king  had  completely 
forgotten  the  matter,  for  in  his  usual  way  he  dallied 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDERI. 


239 


in  graceful  conversation  with  the  two  ladies,  and  never 
once  made  any  allusion  to  poor  Brusson.  At  last 
Bontems  appeared,  and  approaching  the  king  whis- 
pered certain  words  in  his  ear,  but  in  so  low  a  tone 
that  neither  De  Maintenon  nor  De  Scuderi  could  make 
anything  out  of  them.  Mademoiselle's  heart  quaked. 
Then  the  king  rose  to  his  feet  and  approached  her, 
saying  with  brimming  eyes,  "  I  congratulate  you, 
Mademoiselle.  Your  protege,  Olivier  Brusson,  is  free." 
The  tears  gushed  from  the  old  lady's  eyes  ;  unable  to 
speak  a  word,  she  was  about  to  throw  herself  at  the 
king's  feet.  But  he  prevented  her,  saying,  "  Go,  go, 
Mademoiselle.  You  ought  to  be  my  advocate  in 
Parliament  and  plead  my  causes,  for,  by  St.  Denis, 
there's  nobody  on  earth  could  withstand  your  elo- 
quence ;  and  yet,"  he  continued,  "  and  yet  when 
Virtue  herself  has  taken  a  man  under  her  own  protec- 
tion, is  he  not  safe  from  all  base  accusations,  from  the 
Chambre  Ardente  and  all  other  tribunals  in  the  world  ?" 
De  Scuderi  now  found  words  and  poured  them  out  in  a 
stream  of  glowing  thanks.  The  king  interrupted  her, 
by  informing  her  that  she  herself  would  find  await- 
ing her  in  her  own  house  still  warmer  thanks  than  he 
had  a  right  to  claim  from  her,  for  probably  at  that  mo- 
ment the  happy  Olivier  was  clasping  his  Madelon  in 
his  arms.  "  Bontems  shall  pay  you  a  thousand  Louis 
(T  or"  concluded  the  king.  "  Give  them  in  my  name 
to  the  little  girl  as  a  dowry.  Let  her  marry  her  Brus- 
son, who  doesn't  deserve  such  good  fortune,  and  then 
let  them  both  be  gone  out  of  Paris,  for  such  is  my  will." 

La  Martiniere  came  running  forward  to  meet  her 
mistress,  and  Baptiste  behind  her  ;  the  faces  of  both 
were  radiant  with  joy  ;  both  cried  delighted,  "  He  is 
here  !  he  is  free  !  O  the  dear  young  people  !  "  The 
happy  couple  threw  themselves  at  Mademoiselle's  feet. 


24o  MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUDÜRL 


"  Oh  !  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  "  cried  Madeion.  "  I 
knew  that  you,  that  nobody  but  you,  would  save 
my  darling  Olivier."  "And  O  my  mother,"  cried 
Olivier,  "my  belief  in  you  never  wavered."  They 
both  kissed  the  honoured  lady's  hands,  and  shed  in- 
numerable tears.  Then  they  embraced  each  other 
again  and  again,  affirming  that  the  exquisite  happiness 
of  that  moment  outweighed  all  the  unutterable  suffer- 
ings of  the  days  that  were  past ;  and  they  vowed  never 
to  part  from  each  other  till  Death  himself  came  to 
part  them. 

A  few  days  later  they  were  united  by  the  blessing  of 
the  priest.  Even  though  it  had  not  been  the  King's 
wish,  Brusson  would  not  have  stayed  in  Paris,  where 
everything  would  have  reminded  him  of  the  fearful 
time  of  Cardillac's  crimes,  and  where,  moreover,  some 
accident  might  reveal  in  pernicious  wise  his  dark  secret, 
now  become  known  to  several  persons,  and  so  his 
peace  of  mind  might  be  ruined  for  ever.  Almost  im- 
mediately after  the  wedding  he  set  out  with  his  young 
wife  for  Geneva,  Mademoiselle's  blessings  accompany- 
ing them  on  the  way.  Richly  provided  with  means 
through  Madelon's  dowry,  and  endowed  with  uncom- 
mon skill  at  his  trade,  as  well  as  with  every  virtue  of  a 
good  citizen,  he  led  there  a  happy  life,  free  from  care. 
He  realised  the  hopes  which  had  deceived  his  father 
and  had  brought  him  at  last  to  his  grave. 

A  year  after  Brusson's  departure  there  appeared  a 
public  proclamation,  signed  by  Harloy  de  Chauvalon, 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  by  the  parliamentary  advo- 
cate, Pierre  Arnaud  d'Andilly,  which  ran  to  the  effect 
that  a  penitent  sinner  had,  under  the  seal  of  confession, 
handed  over  to  the  Church  a  large  and  valuable  store 
of  jewels  and  gold  ornaments  which  he  had  stolen. 
Everybody  who  up  to  the  end  of  the  year  1680  had  lost 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  SCUD&RI. 


ornaments  by  theft,  particularly  by  a  murderous  attack 
in  the  public  street,  was  to  apply  to  D'Andilly,  and 
then,  if  his  description  of  the  ornament  which  had  been 
stolen  from  him  tallied  exactly  with  any  of  the  pieces 
awaiting  identification,  and  if  further  there  existed  no 
doubt  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  his  claim,  he  should  re- 
ceive his  property  again.  Many  of  those  whose  names 
stood  on  Cardillac's  list  as  having  been,  not  murdered, 
but  merely  stunned  by  a  blow,  gradually  came  one  after 
the  other  to  the  parliamentary  advocate,  and  received, 
to  their  no  little  amazement,  their  stolen  property  back 
again.  The  rest  fell  to  the  coffers  of  the  Church  of  St. 
Eustace. 

Vol.  II.— 16 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


YRMONT  had  a  larger  concourse  of  visitors  than 


A  ever  in  the  summer  of  18 — .  The  number  of  rich 
and  illustrious  strangers  increased  from  day  to  day, 
greatly  exciting  the  zeal  of  speculators  of  all  kinds. 
Hence  it  was  also  that  the  owners  of  the  faro-bank  took 
care  to  pile  up  their  glittering  gold  in  bigger  heaps,  in 
order  that  this,  the  bait  of  the  noblest  game,  which  they, 
like  good  skilled  hunters,  knew  how  to  decoy,  might 
preserve  its  efficacy. 

Who  does  not  know  how  fascinating  an  excitement 
gambling  is,  particularly  at  watering-places,  during  the 
season,  where  every  visitor,  having  laid  aside  his  ordi- 
nary habits  and  course  of  life,  deliberately  gives  himself 
up  to  leisure  and  ease  and  exhilarating  enjoyment  ? 
then  gambling  becomes  an  irresistible  attraction.  Peo- 
ple who  at  other  times  never  touch  a  card  are  to  be  seen 
amongst  the  most  eager  players  ;  and  besides,  it  is  the 
fashion,  especially  in  higher  circles,  for  every  one  to 
visit  the  bank  in  the  evening  and  lose  a  little  money  at 


The  only  person  who  appeared  not  to  heed  this  irre- 
sistible attraction,  and  this  injunction  of  fashion,  was  a 
young  German  Baron,  whom  we  will  call  Siegfried. 
When  everybody  else  hurried  off  to  the  play-house,  and 
he  was  deprived  of  all  means  and  all  prospect  of  the  in- 
tellectual conversation  he  loved,  he  preferred  either  to 


play. 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


243 


give  reins  to  the  flights  of  his  fancy  in  solitary  walks  or 
to  stay  in  his  own  room  and  take  up  a  book,  or  even 
indulge  in  poetic  attempts,  in  writing,  himself. 

As  Siegfried  was  young,  independent,  rich,  of  noble 
appearance  and  pleasing  disposition,  it  could  not  fail 
but  that  he  was  highly  esteemed  and  loved,  and  that  he 
had  the  most  decisive  good-fortune  with  the  fair  sex. 
And  in  everything  that  he  took  up  or  turned  his  atten- 
tion to,  there  seemed  to  be  a  singularly  lucky  star  pre- 
siding over  his  actions.  %  Rumour  spoke  of  many  extra- 
ordinary love-intrigues  which  had  been  forced  upon 
him,  and  out  of  which,  however  ruinous  they  would  in 
all  likelihood  have  been  for  many  other  young  men,  he 
escaped  with  incredible  ease  and  success.  But  when- 
ever the  conversation  turned  upon  him  and  his  good 
fortune,  the  old  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance  were 
especially  fond  of  relating  a  story  about  a  watch,  which 
had  happened  in  the  days  of  his  early  youth.  For  it 
chanced  once  that  Siegfried,  while  still  under  his  guar- 
dian's care,  had  quite  unexpectedly  found  himself  so 
straitened  for  money  on  a  journey  that  he  was  abso- 
lutely obliged  to  sell  his  gold  watch,  which  was  set  with 
brilliants,  merely  in  order  to  get  on  his  way.  He  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  have  to  throw  away 
his  valuable  watch  for  an  old  song  ;  but  as  there  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  hotel  where  he  had  put  up  at  a  young 
prince  who  was  just  in  want  of  such  an  ornament,  the 
Baron  actually  received  for  it  more  than  it  was  really 
worth.  More  than  a  year  passed  and  Siegfried  had  be- 
come his  own  master,  when  he  read  in  the  newspapers  in 
another  place  that  a  watch  was  to  be  made  the  subject  of 
a  lottery.  He  took  a  ticket,  which  cost  a  mere  trifle,  and 
won — the  same  gold  watch  set  with  brilliants  which  he 
had  sold.  Not  long  afterwards  he  exchanged  this 
watch  for  a  valuable  ring.    He  held  office  for  a  short 


244 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


time  under  the  Prince  of  G  ,  and  when  he  retired 

from  his  post  the  Prince  presented  to  him  as  a  mark  of 
his  good-will  the  very  identical  gold  watch  set  with 
brilliants  as  before,  together  wTith  a  costly  chain. 

From  this  story  they  passed  to  Siegfried's  obstinacy 
in  never  on  any  account  touching  a  card  ;  why,  with  his 
strongly  pronounced  good-luck  he  had  all  the  more  in- 
ducement to  play  ;  and  they  were  unanimous  in  coming 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  Baron,  notwithstanding  all 
his  other  conspicuous  good  qualities,  was  a  miserly  fel- 
low, far  too  careful  and  far  too  stingy  to  expose  him- 
self to  the  smallest  possible  loss.  That  the  Baron's 
conduct  was  in  every  particular  the  direct  contrary  of 
that  of  an  avaricious  man  had  no  weight  with  them  ; 
and  as  is  so  often  the  case,  when  the  majority  have  set 
their  hearts  upon  tagging  a  questioning  *  but '  on  to  the 
good  name  of  a  talented  man,  and  are  determined  to 
find  this  'but'  at  any  cost,  even  though  it  should  be 
in  their  own  imagination,  so  in  the  present  case  the 
sneering  allusion  to  Siegfried's  aversion  to  play  afforded 
them  infinite  satisfaction. 

Siegfried  was  not  long  in  learning  what  was  being 
said  about  him  ;  and  since,  generous  and  liberal  as  he 
was,  there  was  nothing  he  hated  and  detested  more  than 
miserliness,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  put  his  traducers 
to  shame  by  ransoming  himself  from  this  foul  aspersion 
at  the  cost  of  a  couple  of  hundred  Louis  (for,  or  even 
more  if  need  be,  however  much  disgusted  he  might 
feel  at  gambling.  He  presented  himself  at  the  faro- 
bank  with  the  deliberate  intention  of  losing  the  large 
sum  which  he  had  put  in  his  pocket;  but  in  play  also 
the  good  luck  which  stood  by  him  in  everything  he  un- 
dertook did  not  prove  unfaithful.  Every  card  he  chose 
won.  The  cabalistic  calculations  of  seasoned  old  play- 
ers were  shivered  to  atoms  against  the  Baron's  play. 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


245 


No  matter  whether  he  changed  his  cards  or  continued 
to  stake  on  1  the  same  one,  it  was  all  the  same  :  he  was 
always  a  winner.  In  the  Baron  they  had  the  singular 
spectacle  of  a  punter  at  variance  with  himself  because 
the  cards  fell  favourable  for  him  ;  and  notwithstanding 
that  the  explanation  of  his  behaviour  was  pretty  patent, 
yet  people  looked  at  each  other  significantly  and  gave 
utterance  in  no  ambiguous  terms  to  the  opinion  that 
the  Baron,  carried  along  by  his  penchant  for  the  mar- 
vellous, might  eventually  become  insane,  for  any  player 
who  could  be  dismayed  at  his  run  of  luck  must  surely 
be  insane. 

The  very  fact  of  having  won  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  made  it  obligatory  upon  the  Baron  to  go  on 
playing  until  he  should  have  carried  out  his  original 
purpose  ;  for  in  all  probability  his  large  win  would  be 
followed  by  a  still  larger  loss.  But  people's  expecta- 
tions were  not  in  the  remotest  degree  realised,  for  the 
Baron's  striking  good-luck  continued  to  attend  him. 

Without  his  being  conscious  of  it,  there  began  to  be 


1  In  faro  the  keeper  of  the  bank  plays  against  all  the  rest  of  the 
players  (who  are  called  punters).  He  has  a  full  pack  ;  they  have  but 
a  single  complete  suit.  The  punters  may  stake  what  they  please  upon 
any  card  they  please,  except  in  so  far  as  rules  may  have  been  made  to 
the  contrary  by  the  banker.  After  the  cards  have  been  cut,  the  banker 
proceeds  to  take  off  the  two  top  cards  one  after  the  other,  placing  the 
first  at  his  right  hand,  and  the  second  at  his  left,  each  with  the  face 
uppermost.  Any  punter  who  has  staked  a  card  which  bears  exactly 
the  same  number  of  "peeps"  as  the  card  turned  up  on  the  banker's 
right  hand  loses  the  stake  to  the  latter  ;  but  if  it  bears  the  same  num- 
ber of  "peeps"  as  the  card  on  the  banker's  left,  it  is  the  banker  who 
has  to  pay  the  punter  a  sum  equal  to  the  value  of  his  stake.  The 
twenty-six  drawings  which  a  full  pack  allows  the  banker  to  make  are 
called  a  tattle. 

This  general  sketch  will  help  to  make  the  text  intelligible  for  the 
most  part  without  going  into  minor  technicalities  of  the  game. 


246 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


awakened  in  his  mind  a  strong  liking  for  faro,  which 
with  all  its  simplicity  is  the  most  ominous  of  games  ; 
and  this  liking  continued  to  increase  more  and  more. 
He  was  no  longer  dissatisfied  with  his  good-luck  ;  gam- 
bling fettered  his  attention  and  held  him  fast  to  the 
table  for  nights  and  nights,  so  that  he  was  perforce  com- 
pelled to  give  credence  to  the  peculiar  attraction  of  the 
game,  of  which  his  friends  had  formerly  spoken  and 
which  he  would  by  no  means  allow  to  be  correct,  for  he 
was  attracted  to  faro  not  by  the  thirst  for  gain,  but  sim- 
ply and  solely  by  the  game  itself. 

One  night,  just  as  the  banker  had  finished  a  taille, 
the  Baron  happened  to  raise  his  eyes  and  observed  that 
an  elderly  man  had  taken  post  directly  opposite  to  him 
and  had  got  his  eyes  fixed  upon  him  in  a  set,  sad,  earnest 
gaze.  And  as  long  as  play  lasted,  every  time  the  Baron 
looked  up,  his  eyes  met  the  stranger's  dark  sad  stare, 
until  at  last  he  could  not  help  being  struck  with  a  very 
uncomfortable  and  oppressive  feeling.  And  the  stranger 
only  left  the  apartment  when  play  came  to  an  end  for 
the  night.  The  following  night  he  again  stood  opposite 
the  Baron,  staring  at  him  with  unaverted  gaze,  whilst 
his  eyes  had  a  dark  mysterious  spectral  look.  The 
Baron  still  kept  his  temper.  But  when  on  the  third 
night  the  stranger  appeared  again  and  fixed  his  eyes, 
burning  with  a  consuming  fire,  upon  the  Baron,  the 
latter  burst  out,  "  Sir,  I  must  beg  you  to  choose  some 
other  place.  You  exercise  a  constraining  influence 
upon  my  play." 

With  a  painful  smile  the  stranger  bowed  and  left  the 
table,  and  the  hall  too,  without  uttering  a  word. 

But  on  the  next  night  the  stranger  again  stood  oppo- 
site the  Baron,  piercing  him  through  and  through  with 
his  dark  fiery  glance.  Then  the  Baron  burst  out  still 
more  angrily  than  on  the  preceding  night,  "  If  you 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


247 


think  it  a  joke,  sir,  to  stare  at  me,  pray  choose  some 
other  time  and  some  other  place  to  do  so  ;  and  now 

have  the  "   A  wave  of  the  hand  towards  the  door 

took  the  place  of  the  harsh  words  the  Baron  was  about 
to  utter.  And  as  on  the  previous  night,  the  stranger, 
after  bowing  slightly,  left  the  hall  with  the  same  pain- 
ful smile  upon  his  lips. 

Siegfried  was  so  excited  and  heated  by  play,  by  the 
wine  which  he  had  taken,  and  also  by  the  scene  with 
the  stranger,  that  he  could  not  sleep.  Morning  was 
already  breaking,  when  the  stranger's  figure  appeared 
before  his  eyes.  He  observed  his  striking,  sharp-cut 
features,  worn  with  suffering,  and  his  sad  deep-set  eyes 
just  as  he  had  stared  at  him  ;  and  he  noticed  his  distin- 
guished bearing,  which,  in  spite  of  his  mean  clothing, 
betrayed  a  man  of  high  culture.  And  then  the  air  of 
painful  resignation  with  which  the  stranger  submitted 
to  the  harsh  words  flung  at  him,  and  fought  down  his 
bitter  feelings  with  an  effort,  and  left  the  hall  !  "  No," 
cried  Siegfried,  "  I  did  him  wrong — great  wrong.  Is 
it  indeed  at  all  like  me  to  blaze  up  in  this  rude,  ill- 
mannered  way,  like  an  uncultivated  clown,  and  to  offer 
insults  to  people  without  the  least  provocation  ? " 
The  Baron  at  last  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  it  must 
have  been  a  most  oppressive  feeling  of  the  sharp  con- 
trast between  them  which  had  made  the  man  stare  at 
him  so  ;  in  the  moment  that  he  was  perhaps  contending 
with  the  bitterest  poverty,  he  (the  Baron)  was  piling 
up  heaps  and  heaps  of  gold  with  all  the  supercilious- 
ness of  the  gambler.  He  resolved  to  find  out  the 
stranger  that  very  morning  and  atone  to  him  for  his 
rudeness. 

And  as  chance  would  have  it,  the  very  first  person 
whom  the  Baron  saw  strolling  down  the  avenue  was 
the  stranger  himself. 


248 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


The  Baron  addressed  him,  offered  the  most  profuse 
apologies  for  his  behaviour  of  the  night  before,  and  in 
conclusion  begged  the  stranger's  pardon  in  all  due 
form.  The  stranger  replied  that  he  had  nothing  to 
pardon,  since  large  allowances  must  be  made  for  a 
player  deeply  intent  over  his  game,  and  besides,  he 
had  only  himself  to  blame  for  the  harsh  words  he  had 
provoked,  since  he  had  obstinately  persisted  in  remain- 
ing in  the  place  where  he  disturbed  the  Baron's  play. 

The  Baron  went  further  ;  he  said  there  were  often 
seasons  of  momentary  embarrassment  in  life  which 
weighed  with  a  most  galling  effect  upon  a  man  of  re- 
finement, and  he  plainly  hinted  to  the  stranger  that  he 
was  willing  to  give  the  money  he  had  won,  or  even 
more  still,  if  by  that  means  he  could  perhaps  be  of 
any  assistance  to  him. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  stranger,  "you  think  I  am  in  want, 
but  that  is  not  indeed  the  case  ;  for  though  poor  rather 
than  rich,  I  yet  have  enough  to  satisfy  my  simple 
wants.  Moreover,  you  will  yourself  perceive  that  as  a 
man  of  honour  I  could  not  possibly  accept  a  large  sum 
of  money  from  you  as  indemnification  for  the  insult 
you  conceive  you  have  offered  me,  even  though  I  were 
not  a  gentleman  of  birth." 

"  I  think  I  understand  you,"  replied  the  Baron 
starting  ;  "  I  am  ready  to  grant  you  the  satisfaction 
you  demand." 

"  Good  God  !  "  continued  the  stranger — "  Good  God, 
how  unequal  a  contest  it  would  be  between  us  two  ! 
I  am  certain  that  you  think  as  I  do  about  a  duel,  that 
it  is  not  to  be  treated  as  a  piece  of  childish  folly ;  nor 
do  you  believe  that  a  few  drops  of  blood,  which  have 
perhaps  fallen  from  a  scratched  finger,  can  ever  wash 
tarnished  honour  bright  again.  There  are  many  cases  in 
which  it  is  impossible  for  two  particular  individuals  to 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


249 


continue  to  exist  together  on  this  earth,  even  though 
the  one  live  in  the  Caucasus  and  the  other  on  the 
Tiber  ;  no  separation  is  possible  so  long  as  the  hated 
foe  can  be  thought  of  as  still  alive.  In  this  case  a  duel 
to  decide  which  of  the  two  is  to  give  way  to  the  other 
on  this  earth  is  a  necessity.  Between  us  now,  as  I 
have  just  said,  a  duel  would  be  fought  upon  unequal 
terms,  since  nohow  can  my  life  be  valued  so  highly  as 
yours.  If  I  run  you  through,  I  destroy  a  whole  world 
of  the  finest  hopes  ;  and  if  I  fall,  then  you  have  put  an 
end  to  a  miserable  existence,  that  is  harrowed  by  the 
bitterest  and  most  agonising  memories.  But  after  all 
— and  this  is  of  course  the  main  thing — I  don't  conceive 
myself  to  have  been  in  the  remotest  degree  insulted. 
You  bade  me  go,  and  I  went." 

These  last  words  the  stranger  spoke  in  a  tone  which 
nevertheless  betrayed  the  sting  in  his  heart.  This  was 
enough  for  the  Baron  to  again  apologise,  which  he  did 
by  especially  dwelling  upon  the  fact  that  the  stranger's 
glance  had,  he  did  not  know  why,  gone  straight  to  his 
heart,  till  at  last  he  could  endure  it  no  longer. 

"  I  hope  then,"  said  the  stranger,  "that  if  my  glance 
did  really  penetrate  to  your  heart,  it  aroused  you  to  a 
sense  of  the  threatening  danger  on  the  brink  of  which 
you  are  hovering.  With  a  light  glad  heart  and  youth- 
ful ingenuousness  you  are  standing  on  the  edge  of  the 
abyss  of  ruin  ;  one  single  push  and  you  will  plunge 
headlong  down  without  a  hope  of  rescue.  In  a  single 
word,  you  are  on  the  point  of  becoming  a  confirmed 
and  passionate  gambler  and  ruining  yourself." 

The  Baron  assured  him  that  he  was  completely  mis- 
taken. He  related  the  circumstances  under  which  he 
had  first  gone  to  the  faro-table,  and  assured  him  that 
he  entirely  lacked  the  gambler's  characteristic  dispo- 
sition ;  all  he  wished  was  to  lose  two  hundred  Louis  (Tor 


250 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


or  so,  and  when  he  had  succeeded  in  this  he  intended 
to  cease  punting.  Up  to  that  time,  however,  he  had 
had  the  most  conspicuous  run  of  good-luck. 

"Oh!  but,"  cried  the  stranger,  ''oh!  but  it  is  exactly 
this  run  of  good-luck  wherein  lies  the  subtlest  and 
most  formidable  temptation  of  the  malignant  enemy. 
It  is  this  run  of  good-luck  which  attends  your  play, 
Baron, —  the  circumstances  under  which  you  have 
begun  to  play, — nay,  your  entire  behaviour  whilst 
actually  engaged  in  play,  which  only  too  plainly  betray 
how  your  interest  in  it  deepens  and  increases  on  each 
occasion  ;  all — all  this  reminds  me  only  too  forcibly  of 
the  awful  fate  of  a  certain  unhappy  man,  who,  in  many 
respects  like  you,  began  to  play  under  circumstances 
similar  to  those  which  you  have  described  in  your  own 
case.  And  therefore  it  was  that  I  could  not  keep  my 
eyes  off  you,  and  that  I  was  hardly  able  to  restrain 
myself  from  saying  in  words  what  my  glances  were 
meant  to  tell  you.  '  Oh  !  see — see — see  the  demons 
stretching  out  their  talons  to  drag  you  down  into  the 
pit  of  ruin.'  Thus  I  should  like  to  have  called  to  you. 
I  was  desirous  of  making  your  acquaintance  ;  and  I 
have  succeeded.  Let  me  tell  you  the  history  of  the 
unfortunate  man  whom  I  mentioned  ;  you  will  then 
perhaps  be  convinced  that  it  is  no  idle  phantom  of  the 
brain  when  I  see  you  in  the  most  imminent  danger, 
and  warn  you." 

The  stranger  and  the  Baron  both  sat  down  upon  a 
seat  which  stood  quite  isolated,  and  then  the  stranger 
began  as  follows  : — 

"The  same  brilliant  qualities  which  distinguish  you, 
Herr  Baron,  gained  Chevalier  Menars  the  esteem  and 
admiration  of  men  and  made  him  a  favourite  amongst 
women.  In  riches  alone  Fortune  had  not  been  so 
gracious  to  him  as  she  has  been  to  you  ;  he  was  almost 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


251 


in  want ;  and  it  was  only  through  exercising  the  strict- 
est economy  that  he  was  enabled  to  appear  in  a  state 
becoming  his  position  as  the  scion  of  a  distinguished 
family.  Since  even  the  smallest  loss  would  be  serious 
for  him  and  upset  the  entire  tenor  of  his  course  of  life, 
he  dare  not  indulge  in  play  ;  besides,  he  had  no  incli- 
nation to  do  so,  and  it  was  therefore  no  act  of  self-sacri- 
fice on  his  part  to  avoid  the  tables.  It  is  to  be  added 
that  he  had  the  most  remarkable  success  in  everything 
which  he  took  in  hand,  so  that  Chevalier  Menars'  good- 
luck  became  a  by-word. 

"One  night  he  suffered  himself  to  be  persuaded, 
contrary  to  his  practice,  to  visit  a  play-house.  The 
friends  whom  he  had  accompanied  were  soon  deeply 
engaged  in  play. 

"Without  taking  any  interest  in  what  was  going 
forward,  the  Chevalier,  busied  with  thoughts  of  quite 
a  different  character,  first  strode  up  and  down  the 
apartment  and  then  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
gaming-table,  where  the  gold  continued  to  pour  in 
upon  the  banker  from  all  sides.  All  at  once  an  old 
colonel  observed  the  Chevalier,  and  cried  out,  'The 
devil !  Here  we've  got  Chevalier  Menars  and  his 
good-luck  amongst  us,  and  yet  we  can  win  nothing, 
since  he  has  declared  neither  for  the  banker  nor  for 
the  punters.  But  we  can't  have  it  so  any  longer;  he 
shall  at  once  punt  for  me.' 

"  All  the  Baron's  attempts  to  excuse  himself  on  the 
ground  of  his  lack  of  skill  and  total  want  of  experience 
were  of  no  avail  ;  the  Colonel  was  not  to  be  denied  ; 
the  Chevalier  must  take  his  place  at  the  table. 

"  The  Chevalier  had  exactly  the  same  run  of  fortune 
that  you  have,  Herr  Baron.  The  cards  fell  favourable 
for  him,  and  he  had  soon  won  a  considerable  sum  for 
the  Colonel,  whose  joy  at  his  grand  thought  of  claim- 


252 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


ing  the  loan  of  Chevalier  Menars'  steadfast  good-luck 
knew  no  bounds. 

"  This  good-luck,  which  quite  astonished  all  the  rest 
of  those  present,  made  not  the  slightest  impression 
upon  the  Chevalier  ;  nay,  somehow,  in  a  way  inexpli- 
cable to  himself,  his  aversion  to  play  took  deeper  root, 
so  that  on  the  following  morning  when  he  awoke  and 
felt  the  consequences  of  his  exertion  during  the  night, 
through  which  he  had  been  awake,  in  a  general  relaxa- 
tion both  mental  and  physical,  he  took  a  most  earnest 
resolve  never  again  under  any  circumstances  to  visit  a 
play-house. 

"  And  in  this  resolution  he  was  still  further  strength- 
ened by  the  old  Colonel's  conduct ;  he  had  the  most 
decided  ill-luck  with  every  card  he  took  up  ;  and  the 
blame  for  this  run  of  bad-luck  he,  with  the  most  extra- 
ordinary infatuation,  put  upon  the  Chevalier's  shoul- 
ders. In  an  importunate  manner  he  demanded  that 
the  Chevalier  should  either  punt  for  him  or  at  any  rate 
stand  at  his  side,  so  as  by  his  presence  to  banish  the 
perverse  demon  who  always  put  into  his  hands  cards 
which  never  turned  up  right.  Of  course  it  is  well 
known  that  there  is  more  absurd  superstition  to  be 
found  amongst  gamblers  than  almost  anywhere  else. 
The  only  way  in  which  the  Chevalier  could  get  rid  of 
the  Colonel  was  by  declaring  in  a  tone  of  great  serious- 
ness that  he  would  rather  fight  him  than  play  for  him, 
for  the  Colonel  was  no  great  friend  of  duels.  The 
Chevalier  cursed  his  good-nature  in  having  complied 
with  the  old  fool's  request  at  first. 

"  Now  nothing  less  was  to  be  expected  than  that  the 
story  of  the  Baron's  marvellously  lucky  play  should 
pass  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  also  that  all  sorts  of 
enigmatical  mysterious  circumstances  should  be  in- 
vented and  added  on  to  it,  representing  the  Chevalier 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


253 


as  a  man  in  league  with  supernatural  powers.  But  the 
fact  that  the  Chevalier  in  spite  of  his  good-luck  did 
not  touch  another  card,  could  not  fail  to  inspire  the 
highest  respect  for  his  firmness  of  character,  and  so 
very  much  increase  the  esteem  which  he  already  en- 
joyed. 

"  Somewhere  about  a  year  later  the  Chevalier  was 
suddenly  placed  in  a  most  painful  and  embarrassing 
position  owing  to  the  non-arrival  of  the  small  sum  of 
money  upon  which  he  relied  to  defray  his  current  ex- 
penses. He  was  obliged  to  disclose  his  circumstances 
to  his  most  intimate  friend,  who  without  hesitation 
supplied  him  with  what  he  needed,  at  the  same  time 
twitting  him  with  being  the  most  hopelessly  eccentric 
fellow  that  ever  was.  '  Destiny,'  said  he  *  gives  us  hints 
in  what  way  and  where  wre  ought  to  seek  our  own 
benefit  ;  and  we  have  only  our  own  indolence  to  blame 
if  we  do  not  heed,  do  not  understand  these  hints.  The 
Higher  Power  that  rules  over  us  has  whispered  quite 
plainly  in  your  ears,  If  you  want  money  and  property 
go  and  play,  else  you  will  be  poor  and  needy,  and  never 
independent,  as  long  as  you  live.' 

"  And  now  for  the  first  time  the  thought  of  how  won- 
derfully  fortune  had  favoured  him  at  the  faro-bank 
took  clear  and  distinct  shape  in  his  mind  ;  and  both  in 
his  dreams  and  when  awake  he  heard  the  banker's  mo- 
notonous gagne,  perd,1  and  the  rattle  of  the  gold  pieces. 
'Yes,  it  is  undoubtedly  so,'  he  said  to  himself,  'a  single 
night  like  that  one  before  would  free  me  from  my  diffi- 
culties, and  help  me  over  the  painful  embarrassment 
of  being  a  burden  to  my  friends  ;  it  is  my  duty  to  fol- 
low the  beckoning  finger  of  fate.'    The  friends  who 

1  The  words  "win,"  "lose,"  with  which  the  banker  places  the  two 
cards  on  the  table,  the  first  to  his  right  for  himself,  the  second  on  his 
left  for  the  punter. 


254 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


had  advised  him  to  try  play,  accompanied  him  to  the 
play-house,  and  gave  him  twenty  Louis  d'or1  more  that 
he  might  begin  unconcerned. 

"  If  the  Chevalier's  play  had  been  splendid  when  he 
punted  for  the  old  Colonel,  it  was  indeed  doubly  so 
now.  Blindly  and  without  choice  he  drew  the  cards  he 
staked  upon,  but  the  invisible  hand  of  that  Higher 
Power  which  is  intimately  related  to  Chance,  or  rather 
actually  is  what  we  call  Chance,  seemed  to  be  regulat- 
ing his  play.  At  the  end  of  the  evening  he  had  won  a 
thousand  Louis  (Vor. 

"  Next  morning  he  awoke  with  a  kind  of  dazed  feel- 
ing. The  gold  pieces  he  had  won  lay  scattered  about 
beside  him  on  the  table.  At  the  first  moment  he 
fancied  he  was  dreaming  ;  he  rubbed  his  eyes  ;  he 
grasped  the  table  and  pulled  it  nearer  towards  him. 
But  when  he  began  to  reflect  upon  what  had  happened, 
when  he  buried  his  fingers  amongst  the  gold  pieces, 
when  he  counted  them  with  gratified  satisfaction,  and 
even  counted  them  through  again,  then  delight  in  the 
base  mammon  shot  for  the  first  time  like  a  pernicious 
poisonous  breath  through  his  every  nerve  and  fibre, 
then  it  was  all  over  with  the  purity  of  sentiment  which 
he  had  so  long  preserved  intact.  He  could  hardly  wait 
for  night  to  come  that  he  might  go  to  the  faro-table 
again.  His  good-luck  continued  constant,  so  that  after 
a  few  weeks,  during  which  he  played  nearly  every  night, 
he  had  won  a  considerable  sum. 

"  Now  there  are  two  sorts  of  players.  Play  simply 
as  such  affords  to  many  an  indescribable  and  mysterious 
pleasure,  totally  irrespective  of  gain.  The  strange  com- 
plications of  chance  occur  with  the   most  surprising 


1  The  new  Louis  d'or  were  worth  somewhat  less  than  the  old  coins 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV.    (See  note,  page  175.) 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


255 


waywardness  ;  the  government  of  the  Higher  Power 
becomes  conspicuously  evident ;  and  this  it  is  which 
stirs  up  our  spirit  to  move  its  wings  and  see  if  it  can- 
not soar  upwards  into  the  mysterious  kingdom,  the 
fateful  workshop  of  this  Power,  in  order  to  surprise  it 
at  its  labours. 

"  I  once  knew  a  man  who  spent  many  days  and 
nights  alone  in  his  room,  keeping  a  bank  and  punting 
against  himself  ;  this  man  was,  according  to  my  way  of 
thinking,  a  genuine  player.  Others  have  nothing  but 
gain  before  their  eyes,  and  look  upon  play  as  a  means 
to  getting  rich  speedily.  This  class  the  Chevalier 
joined,  thus  once  more  establishing  the  truth  of  the 
saying  that  the  real  deeper  inclination  for  play  must  lie 
in  the  individual  nature — must  be  born  in  it.  And  for 
this  reason  he  soon  found  the  sphere  of  activity  to 
which  the  punter  is  confined  too  narrow.  With  the  very 
large  sum  of  money  that  he  had  won  by  gambling  he 
established  a  bank  of  his  own  ;  and  in  this  enterprise 
fortune  favoured  him  to  such  an  extent  that  within  a 
short  time  his  bank  was  the  richest  in  all  Paris.  And 
agreeably  to  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  largest  propor- 
tion of  players  flocked  to  him,  the  richest  and  luckiest 
banker. 

"  The  heartless,  demoralising  life  of  a  gambler  soon 
blotted  out  all  those  advantages,  as  well  mental  as 
physical,  which  had  formerly  secured  to  the  Chevalier 
people's  affection  and  esteem.  He  ceased  to  be  a 
faithful  friend,  a  cheerful,  easy  guest  in  society,  a 
chivalrous  and  gallant  admirer  of  the  fair  sex.  Ex- 
tinguished was  all  his  taste  for  science  and  art,  and 
gone  all  striving  to  advance  along  the  road  to  sound 
knowledge.  Upon  his  deathly  pale  countenance,  and 
in  his  gloomy  eyes,  where  a  dim,  restless  fire  gleamed, 
was  to  be  read  the  full  expression  of  the  extremely 


256 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


baneful  passion  in  whose  toils  he  was  entangled.  It 
was  not  fondness  for  play,  no,  it  was  the  most  abomi- 
nable avarice  which  had  been  enkindled  in  his  soul  by 
Satan  himself.  In  a  single  word,  he  was  the  most 
finished  specimen  of  a  faro-banker  that  may  be  seen 
anywhere. 

"  One  night  Fortune  was  less  favourable  to  the 
Chevalier  than  usual,  although  he  suffered  no  loss  of 
any  consequence.  Then  a  little  thin  old  man,  meanly 
clad,  and  almost  repulsive  to  look  at,  approached  the 
table,  drew  a  card  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  placed 
a  gold  piece  upon  it.  Several  of  the  players  looked  up 
at  the  old  man  at  first  greatly  astonished,  but  after  that 
they  treated  him  with  provoking  contempt.  Neverthe- 
less his  face  never  moved  a  muscle,  far  less  did  he  utter 
a  single  word  of  complaint. 

"  The  old  man  lost  ;  he  lost  one  stake  after  another ; 
but  the  higher  his  losses  rose  the  more  pleased  the 
other  players  got.  And  at  last,  when  the  new-comer, 
who  continued  to  double  his  stake  every  time,  placed 
five  hundred  Louis  d'or  at  once  upon  a  card  and  this  the 
very  next  moment  turned  up  on  the  losing  side,  one 
of  the  other  players  cried  with  a  laugh,  1  Good-luck, 
Signor  Vertua,  good-luck  !  Don't  lose  heart.  Go  on 
staking  ;  you  look  to  me  as  if  you  would  finish  with 
breaking  the  bank  through  your  immense  winnings.' 
The  old  man  shot  a  basilisk-like  look  upon  the  mocker 
and  hurried  away,  but  only  to  return  at  the  end  of 
half  an  hour  with  his  pockets  full  of  gold.  In  the  last 
taille  he  was,  however,  obliged  to  cease  playing,  since 
he  had  again  lost  all  the  money  he  had  brought  back 
with  him. 

"  This  scornful  and  contemptuous  treatment  of  the 
old  man  had  excessively  annoyed  the  Chevalier,  for  in 
spite  of  all  his  abominable  practices,  he  yet  insisted  on 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


257 


certain  rules  of  good  behaviour  being  observed  at  his 
table.  And  so  on  the  conclusion  of  the  game,  when 
Signor  Vertua  had  taken  his  departure,  the  Chevalier 
felt  he  had  sufficient  grounds  to  speak  a  serious  word 
or  two  to  the  mocker,  as  well  as  to  one  or  two  other 
players  whose  contemptuous  treatment  of  the  old  man 
had  been  most  conspicuous,  and  whom  the  Chevalier 
had  bidden  stay  behind  for  this  purpose. 

"'Ah!  but,  Chevalier,'  cried  one  of  them,  'you 
don't  know  old  Francesco  Vertua,  or  else  you  would 
have  no  fault  to  find  with  us  and  our  behaviour 
towards  him  ;  you  would  rather  approve  of  it.  For 
let  me  tell  you  that  this  Vertua,  a  Neapolitan  by  birth, 
who  has  been  fifteen  years  in  Paris,  is  the  meanest, 
dirtiest,  most  pestilent  miser  and  usurer  who  can  be 
found  anywhere.  He  is  a  stranger  to  every  human  . 
feeling  ;  if  he  saw  his  own  brother  writhing  at  his  feet 
in  the  agonies  of  death,  it  would  be  an  utter  waste  of 
pains  to  try  to  entice  a  single  Louis  dyor  from  him,  even 
if  it  were  to  save  his  brother's  life.  He  has  a  heavy 
burden  of  curses  and  imprecations  to  bear,  which  have 
been  showered  down  upon  him  by  a  multitude  of  men, 
nay,  by  entire  families,  who  have  been  plunged  into 
the  deepest  distress  through  his  diabolical  speculations. 
He  is  hated  like  poison  by  all  who  know  him  ;  every- 
body wishes  that  vengeance  may  overtake  him  for  all 
the  evil  that  he  has  done,  and  that  it  may  put  an  end  to 
his  career  of  iniquity.  He  has  never  played  before,  at 
least  since  he  has  been  in  Paris  ;  and  so  from  all  this 
you  need  not  wonder  at  our  being  so  greatly  astounded 
when  the  old  skin-flint  appeared  at  your  table.  And 
for  the  same  reasons  we  were,  of  course,  pleased  at  the 
old  fellow's  serious  losses,  for  it  would  have  been  hard, 
very  hard,  if  the  old  rascal  had  been  favoured  by  For- 
tune. It  is  only  too  certain,  Chevalier,  that  the  old  fool 
Vol.  II.— 17 


258 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


has  been  deluded  by  the  riches  of  your  bank.  He  came 
intending  to  pluck  you  and  has  lost  his  own  feathers. 
But  yet  it  completely  puzzles  me  how  Vertua  could  act 
thus  in  a  way  so  opposite  to  the  true  character  of  a 
miser,  and  could  bring  himself  to  play  so  high.  Ah  ! 
well — you'll  see  he  will  not  come  again  ;  we  are  now 
quit  of  him.' 

"  But  this  opinion  proved  to  be  far  from  correct,  for 
on  the  very  next  night  Vertua  presented  himself  at  the 
Chevalier's  bank  again,  and  staked  and  lost  much  more 
heavily  than  on  the  night  preceding.  But  he  preserved 
a  calm  demeanour  through  it  all  ;  he  even  smiled  at 
times  with  a  sort  of  bitter  irony,  as  though  foreseeing 
how  soon  things  would  be  totally  changed.  But  during 
each  of  the  succeeding  nights  the  old  man's  losses  in- 
•  creased  like  a  glacier  at  a  greater  and  greater  rate,  till 
at  last  it  was  calculated  that  he  had  paid  over  thirty 
thousand  Louis  d'or  to  the  bank.  Finally  he  entered 
the  hall  one  evening,  long  after  play  had  begun,  with  a 
deathly  pale  face  and  troubled  looks,  and  took  up  his 
post  at  some  distance  from  the  table,  his  eyes  riveted 
in  a  set  stare  upon  the  cards  which  the  Chevalier  suc- 
cessively drew.  At  last,  just  as  the  Chevalier  had 
shuffled  the  cards,  had  had  them  cut  and  was  about  to 
begin  the  taille,  the  old  man  cried  in  such  a  harsh  grat- 
ing voice,  '  Stop  ! '  that  everybody  looked  round  well- 
nigh  dismayed.  Then,  forcing  his  way  to  the  table 
close  up  to  the  Chevalier,  he  said  in  his  ear,  speaking 
in  a  hoarse  voice,  '  Chevalier,  my  house  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  together  with  all  the  furniture  and  all  the  gold 
and  silver  and  all  the  jewels  I  possess,  are  valued  at 
eighty  thousand  francs,  will  you  accept  the  stake?' 
1  Very  good,'  replied  the  Chevalier  coldly,  without  look- 
ing round  at  the  old  man  ;  and  he  began  the  taille. 

"  '  The  queen,'  said  Vertua  ;  and  at  the  next  draw  the 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


259 


queen  had  lost.  The  old  man  reeled  back  from  the 
table  and  leaned  against  the  wall  motionless  and  para- 
lysed, like  a  rigid  stone  statue.  Nobody  troubled  him- 
self any  further  about  him. 

"  Play  was  over  for  the  night  ;  the  players  were  dis- 
persing ;  the  Chevalier  and  his  croupiers  1  were  packing 
away  in  the  strong  box  the  gold  he  had  won.  Then 
old  Vertua  staggered  like  a  ghost  out  of  the  corner 
towards  the  Chevalier  and  addressed  him  in  a  hoarse, 
hollow  voice,  '  Yet  a  word  with  you,  Chevalier, — only  a 
single  word.' 

"  'Well,  what  is  it  ? '  replied  the  Chevalier,  withdraw- 
ing the  key  from  the  lock  of  the  strong  box  and  meas- 
uring the  old  man  from  head  to  foot  with  a  look  of 
contempt. 

"'I  have  lost  all  my  property  at  your  bank,  Cheva- 
lier,' went  on  the  old  man  ;  ' 1  have  nothing,  nothing 
left.  I  don't  know  where  I  shall  lay  my  head  to- 
morrow, nor  how  I  shall  appease  my  hunger.  You  are 
my  last  resource,  Chevalier  ;  lend  me  the  tenth  part  of 
the  sum  I  have  lost  to  you  that  I  may  begin  my  busi- 
ness over  again,  and  so  work  my  way  up  out  of  the 
distressed  state  I  now  am  in.' 

"'Whatever  are  you  thinking  about,' rejoined  the 
Chevalier,  'whatever  are  you  thinking  about,  Signor 
Vertua  ?  Don't  you  know  that  a  faro-banker  never 
dare  lend  of  his  winnings  ?  That's  against  the  old  rule, 
and  I  am  not  going  to  violate  it' 

"'You  are  right,' went  on  Vertua  again.  'You  are 
right,  Chevalier.  My  request  was  senseless — extrava- 
gant— the  tenth  part !  No,  lend  me  the  twentieth  part.' 
'  I  tell  you,'  replied  the  Chevalier  impatiently,  '  that  I 
won't  lend  a  farthing  of  my  winnings.' 

1  The  banker's  assistants,  who  shuffle  cards  for  him,  change  cheques, 
notes,  and  make  themselves  generally  useful. 


2ÖO 


GAME  LEWS  LUCK. 


"  '  True,  true,'  said  Vertua,  his  face  growing  paler  and 
paler  and  his  gaze  becoming  more  and  more  set  and 
staring,  'true,  you  ought  not  to  lend  anything — I  never 
used  to  do.  But  give  some  alms  to  a  beggar — give  him 
a  hundred  Louis  d'or  of  the  riches  which  blind  Fortune 
has  thrown  in  your  hands  to-day.' 

'"Of  a  verity  you  know  how  to  torment  people, 
Signor  Vertua,'  burst  out  the  Chevalier  angrily.  1 1  tell 
you  you  won't  get  so  much  as  a  hundred,  nor  fifty,  nor 
twenty,  no,  not  so  much  as  a  single  Louis  d'or  from 
me.  I  should  be  mad  to  make  you  even  the  smallest 
advance,  so  as  to  help  you  begin  your  shameful  trade 
over  again.  Fate  has  stamped  you  in  the  dust  like  a 
poisonous  reptile,  and  it  would  simply  be  villainy  for 
me  to  aid  you  in  recovering  yourself.  Go  and  perish 
as  you  deserve.' 

'•Pressing  both  hands  over  his  face,  Vertua  sank  on 
the  floor  with  a  muffled  groan.  The  Chevalier  ordered 
his  servant  to  take  the  strong-box  down  to  his  carriage, 
and  then  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  'When  will  you  hand 
over  to  me  your  house  and  effects,  Signor  Vertua?' 

"Vertua  hastily  picked  himself  up  from  the  ground 
and  said  in  a  firm  voice,  '  Now,  at  once — this  moment, 
Chevalier  ;  come  with  me.' 

"'Good,'  replied  the  Chevalier,  'you  may  ride  with 
me  as  far  as  your  house,  which  you  shall  leave  to- 
morrow for  good.' 

"  All  the  way  neither  of  them  spoke  a  single  word, 
neither  Vertua  nor  the  Chevalier.  Arrived  in  front  of 
the  house  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  Vertua  pulled  the 
bell ;  an  old  woman  opened  the  door,  and  on  perceiving 
it  was  Vertua  cried,  '  Oh  !  good  heavens,  Signor  Vertua, 
is  that  you  at  last  ?  Angela  is  half  dead  with  anxiety 
on  your  account.' 

"  '  Silence,'  replied  Vertua.    '  God  grant  she  has  not 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


261 


heard  this  unlucky  bell !  She  is  not  to  know  that  I  have 
come.'  And  therewith  he  took  the  lighted  candle  out 
of  the  old  woman's  hand,  for  she  appeared  to  be  quite 
stunned,  and  lighted  the  Chevalier  up  to  his  own  room. 

"  ' I  am  prepared  for  the  worst,'  said  Vertua.  '  You 
hate,  you  despise  me,  Chevalier.  You  have  ruined  me, 
to  your  own  and  other  people's  joy  ;  but  you  do  not 
know  me.  Let  me  tell  you  then  that  I  was  once  a 
gambler  like  you,  that  capricious  Fortune  was  as 
favourable  to  me  as  she  is  to  you,  that  I  travelled 
through  half  Europe,  stopping  everywhere  where  high 
play  and  the  hope  of  large  gains  enticed  me,  that  the 
piles  of  gold  continually  increased  in  my  bank  as  they 
do  in  yours.  I  had  a  true  and  beautiful  wife,  whom  I 
neglected,  and  she  was  miserable  in  the  midst  of  all 
her  magnificence  and  wealth.  It  happened  once,  when 
I  had  set  up  my  bank  in  Genoa,  that  a  young  Roman 
lost  all  his  rich  patrimony  at  my  bank.  He  besought 
me  to  lend  him  money,  as  I  did  you  to-day,  sufficient  at 
least  to  enable  him  to  travel  back  to  Rome.  I  refused 
with  a  laugh  of  mocking  scorn,  and  in  the  insane  fury 
of  despair  he  thrust  the  stiletto  which  he  wore  right 
into  my  breast.  At  great  pains  the  surgeons  succeeded 
in  saving  me  ;  but  it  was  a  wearying  painful  time 
whilst  I  lay  on  the  bed  of  sickness.  Then  my  wife 
tended  me,  comforted  me,  and  kept  up  my  courage 
when  I  was  ready  to  sink  under  my  sufferings  ;  and  as 
I  grew  towards  recovery  a  feeling  began  to  glimmer 
within  me  which  I  had  never  experienced  before,  and 
it  waxed  ever  stronger  and  stronger.  A  gambler  be- 
comes an  alien  to  all  human  emotion,  and  hence  I 
had  not  known  what  wTas  the  meaning  of  a  wife's  love 
and  faithful  attachment.  The  debt  of  what  I  owed 
my  wife  burned  itself  into  my  ungrateful  heart,  and 
also  the  sense  of  the  villainous  conduct  to  which  I  had 


2Ö2 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


sacrificed  her.  All  those  whose  life's  happiness,  whose 
entire  existence,  I  had  ruined  with  heartless  indiffer- 
ence were  like  tormenting  spirits  of  vengeance,  and  I 
heard  their  hoarse  hollow  voices  echoing  from  the 
grave,  upbraiding  me  with  all  the  guilt  and  crimi- 
nality, the  seed  of  which  I  had  planted  in  their  bosoms. 
It  was  only  my  wife  who  was  able  to  drive  away  the 
unutterable  distress  and  horror  that  then  came  upon 
me.  I  made  a  vow  never  to  touch  a  card  more.  I  lived 
in  retirement ;  I  rent  asunder  all  the  ties  which  held 
me  fast  to  my  former  mode  of  life  ;  I  withstood  the  en- 
ticements of  my  croupiers,  when  they  came  and  said 
they  could  not  do  without  me  and  my  good-luck.  I 
bought  a  small  country  villa  not  far  from  Rome,  and 
thither,  as  soon  as  I  was  recovered  of  my  illness,  I  fled 
for  refuge  along  with  my  wife.  Oh  !  only  one  single 
year  did  I  enjoy  a  calmness,  a  happiness,  a  peaceful 
content,  such  as  I  had  never  dreamt  of !  My  wife  bore 
me  a  daughter,  and  died  a  few  weeks  later.  I  was  in 
despair;  I  railed  at  Heaven  and  again  cursed  myself 
and  my  reprobate  life,  for  which  Heaven  was  now 
exacting  vengeance  upon  me  by  depriving  me  of  my 
wife — she  who  had  saved  me  from  ruin,  who  was  the 
only  creature  who  afforded  me  hope  and  consolation. 
I  was  driven  away  from  my  country  villa  hither  to 
Paris,  like  the  criminal  who  fears  the  horrors  of  solitude. 
Angela  grew  up  the  lovely  image  of  her  mother  ;  my 
heart  was  wholly  wrapt  up  in  her  ;  for  her  sake  I  felt 
called  upon  not  so  much  to  obtain  a  large  fortune  for 
her  as  to  increase  what  I  had  already  got.  It  is  the 
truth  that  I  lent  money  at  a  high  rate  of  interest  ;  but 
it  is  a  foul  calumny  to  accuse  me  of  deceitful  usury. 
And  who  are  these  my  accusers  ?  Thoughtless,  frivo- 
lous people  who  worry  me  to  death  until  I  lend  them 
money,  which  they  immediately  go  and  squander  like 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


263 


a  thing  of  no  worth,  and  then  get  in  a  rage  if  I  demand 
inexorable  punctuality  in  repayment  of  the  money 
which  does  not  indeed  belong  to  me, — no,  but  to  my 
daughter,  for  I  merely  look  upon  myself  as  her  steward. 
It's  not  long  since  I  saved  a  young  man  from  disgrace 
and  ruin  by  advancing  him  a  considerable  sum.  As  I 
knew  he  was  terribly  poor,  I  never  mentioned  a  syllable 
about  repayment  until  I  knew  he  had  got  together  a 
rich  property.  Then  I  applied  to  him  for  settlement  of 
his  debt.  Would  you  believe  it,  Chevalier  ?  the  dis- 
honourable knave,  who  owed  all  he  had  to  me,  tried  to 
deny  the  debt,  and  on  being  compelled  by  the  court  to 
pay  me,  reproached  me  with  being  a  villainous  miser  ? 
I  could  tell  you  more  such  like  cases  ;  and  these  things 
have  made  me  hard  and  insensible  to  emotion  when  I 
have  to  deal  with  folly  and  baseness.  Nay,  more — I 
could  tell  you  of  the  many  bitter  tears  I  have  wiped 
away,  and  of  the  many  prayers  which  have  gone  up  to 
Heaven  for  me  and  my  Angela,  but  you  would  only 
regard  it  as  empty  boasting,  and  pay  not  the  slightest 
heed  to  it,  for  you  are  a  gambler.  I  thought  I  had 
satisfied  the  resentment  of  Heaven  ;  it  was  but  a  delu- 
sion, for  Satan  has  been  permitted  to  lead  me  astray  in 
a  more  disastrous  way  than  before.  I  heard  of  your 
good-luck,  Chevalier.  Every  day  I  heard  that  this  man 
and  that  had  staked  and  staked  at  your  bank  until  he  be- 
came a  beggar.  Then  the  thought  came  into  my  mind 
that  I  was  destined  to  try  my  gambler's  luck,  which  had 
never  hitherto  deserted  me,  against  yours,  that  the 
power  was  given  me  to  put  a  stop  to  your  practices  ; 
and  this  thought,  which  could  only  have  been  engen- 
dered by  some  extraordinary  madness,  left  me  no  rest, 
no  peace.  Hence  I  came  to  your  bank  ;  and  my  terri- 
ble infatuation  did  not  leave  me  until  all  my  property 
— all  my  Angela's  property — was  yours.    And  now  the 


264 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


end  has  come.  I  presume  you  will  allow  my  daughter 
to  take  her  clothing  with  her  ? ' 

"'Your  daughter's  wardrobe  does  not  concern  me,' 
replied  the  Chevalier.  '  You  may  also  take  your  beds 
and  other  necessary  household  utensils,  and  such  like  ; 
for  what  could  I  do  with  all  the  old  lumber  ?  But  see 
to  it  that  nothing  of  value  of  the  things  which  now 
belong  to  me  get  mixed  up  with  it.' 

"  Old  Vertua  stared  at  the  Chevalier  a  second  or  two 
utterly  speechless  ;  then  a  flood  of  tears  burst  from  his 
eyes,  and  he  sank  upon  his  knees  in  front  of  the 
Chevalier,  perfectly  upset  with  trouble  and  despair, 
and  raised  his  hands  crying,  '  Chevalier,  have  you  still 
a  spark  of  human  feeling  left  in  your  breast?  Be  mer- 
ciful, merciful.  It  is  not  I,  but  my  daughter,  my 
Angela,  my  innocent  angelic  child,  whom  you  are 
plunging  into  ruin.  Oh  !  be  merciful  to  her  ;  lend  her, 
her,  my  Angela,  the  twentieth  part  of  the  property  you 
have  deprived  her  of.  Oh  !  I  know  you  will  listen 
to  my  entreaty!  O  Angela!  my  daughter!'  And 
therewith  the  old  man  sobbed  and  lamented  and 
moaned,  calling  upon  his  child  by  name  in  the  most 
heart-rending  tones. 

"  'I  am  getting  tired  of  this  absurd  theatrical  scene,' 
said  the  Chevalier  indifferently  but  impatiently  ;  but 
at  this  moment  the  door  flew  open  and  in  burst  a  girl 
in  a  white  night-dress,  her  hair  dishevelled,  her  face 
pale  as  death, — burst  in  and  ran  to  old  Vertua,  raised 
him  up,  took  him  in  her  arms,  and  cried,  '  O  father  ! 
O  father!  I  have  heard  all,  I  know  all !  Have  you  really 
lost  everything — everything,  really  ?  Have  you  not 
your  Angela?  What  need  have  we  of  money  and  prop- 
erty ?  Will  not  Angela  sustain  you  and  tend  you  ? 
O  father,  don't  humiliate  yourself  a  moment  longer 
before  this  despicable  monster.    It  is  not  we,  but  he, 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


265 


who  is  poor  and  miserable  in  the  midst  of  his  con- 
temptible riches  ;  for  see,  he  stands  there  deserted  in 
his  awful  hopeless  loneliness  ;  there  is  not  a  heart  in 
all  the  wide  world  to  cling  lovingly  to  his  breast,  to 
open  out  to  him  when  he  despairs  of  his  own  life,  of 
himself.  Come,  father.  Leave  this  house  with  me. 
Come,  let  us  make  haste  and  be  gone,  that  this  fearful 
man  may  not  exult  over  your  trouble.' 

"  Vertua  sank  half  fainting  into  an  easy-chair.  Angela 
knelt  down  before  him,  took  his  hands,  kissed  them, 
fondled  them,  enumerated  with  childish  loquacity  all 
the  talents,  all  the  accomplishments,  which  she  was 
mistress  of,  and  by  the  aid  of  which  she  would  earn  a 
comfortable  living  for  her  father  ;  she  besought  him 
from  the  midst  of  burning  tears  to  put  aside  all  his 
trouble  and  distress,  since  her  life  would  now  first  ac- 
quire true  significance,  when  she  had  to  sew,  embroider, 
sing,  and  play  her  guitar,  not  for  mere  pleasure,  but 
for  her  father's  sake. 

"Who,  however  hardened  a  sinner,  could  have  re- 
mained insensible  at  the  sight  of  Angela,  thus  radiant 
in  her  divine  beauty,  comforting  her  old  father  with 
sweet  soft  words,  whilst  the  purest  alfection,  the  most 
childlike  goodness,  beamed  from  her  eyes,  evidently 
coming  from  the  very  depths  of  her  heart  ? 

"  Quite  otherwise  was  it  with  the  Chevalier.  A  per- 
fect Gehenna  of  torment  and  of  the  stinging  of  con- 
science was  awakened  within  him.  Angela  appeared 
to  him  to  be  the  avenging  angel  of  God,  before  whose 
splendour  the  misty  veil  of  his  wicked  infatuation 
melted  away,  so  that  he  saw  with  horror  the  repulsive 
nakedness  of  his  own  miserable  soul.  Yet  right  through 
the  midst  of  the  flames  of  this  infernal  pit  that  was 
blazing  in  the  Chevalier's  heart  passed  a  divine  and 
pure  ray,  whose  emanations  of  light  were  the  sweetest 


266 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


rapture,  the  very  bliss  of  heaven  ;  but  the  shining  of 
this  ray  only  made  his  unutterable  torments  the  more 
terrible  to  bear. 

"  The  Chevalier  had  never  been  in  love.  The  moment 
in  which  he  saw  Angela  was  the  moment  in  which  he 
was  to  experience  the  most  ardent  passion,  and  also  at 
the  same  time  the  crushing  pain  of  utter  hopelessness. 
For  no  man  who  had  appeared  before  the  pure  angel- 
child,  lovely  Angela,  in  the  way  the  Chevalier  had  done, 
could  dream  of  hope.  He  attempted  to  speak,  but  his 
tongue  seemed  to  be  numbed  by  cramp.  At  last,  con- 
trolling himself  with  an  effort,  he  stammered  wTith 
trembling  voice,  '  Signor  Vertua,  listen  to  me.  I  have 
not  won  anything  from  you — nothing  at  all.  There  is 
my  strong  box  ;  it  is  yours, — nay,  I  must  pay  you  yet 
more  than  there  is  there.  I  am  your  debtor.  There, 
take  it,  take  it  ! ' 

"  '  Ü  my  daughter  ! '  cried  Vertua.  But  Angela  rose 
to  her  feet,  approached  the  Chevalier,  and  flashed  a 
proud  look  upon  him,  saying  earnestly  and  composedly, 
'  Chevalier,  allow  me  to  tell  you  that  there  is  something 
higher  than  money  and  goods  ;  there  are  sentiments  to 
which  you  are  a  stranger,  which,  whilst  sustaining  our 
souls  with  the  comfort  of  Heaven,  bid  us  reject  your 
gift,  your  favour,  wTith  contempt.  Keep  your  mammon, 
which  is  burdened  with  the  curse  that  pursues  you,  you 
heartless,  depraved  gambler.' 

"  '  Yes,'  cried  the  Chevalier  in  a  fearful  voice,  his  eyes 
flashing  wildly,  for  he  was  perfectly  beside  himself, 
'yes,  accursed, — accursed  will  I  be — down  into  the 
depths  of  damnation  may  I  be  hurled  if  ever  again  this 
hand  touches  a  card.  And  if  you  then  send  me  from 
you,  Angela,  then  it  will  be  you  who  will  bring  irrepar- 
able ruin  upon  me.  Oh  !  you  don't  know — you  don't 
understand  me.  You  can't  help  but  call  me  insane  ;  but 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


267 


you  will  feel  it — you  will  know  all,  when  you  see  me 
stretched  at  your  feet  with  my  brains  scattered.  Angela  I 
It's  now  a  question  of  life  or  death  !    Farewell  ! ' 

"  Therewith  the  Chevalier  rushed  off  in  a  state  of 
perfect  despair.  Vertu  a  saw  through  him  completely  ; 
he  knew  what  change  had  come  over  him  ;  he  endeav- 
oured to  make  his  lovely  Angela  understand  that 
certain  circumstances  might  arise  which  would  make 
it  necessary  to  accept  the  Chevalier's  present.  Angela 
trembled  with  dread  lest  she  should  understand  her 
father.  She  did  not  conceive  how  it  would  ever  be 
possible  to  meet  the  Chevalier  on  any  other  terms  save 
those  of  contempt.  Destiny,  which  often  ripens  into 
shape  deep  down  in  the  human  heart,  without  the  mind 
being  aware  of  it,  permitted  that  to  take  place  which 
had  never  been  thought  of,  never  been  dreamed  of. 

"  The  Chevalier  was  like  a  man  suddenly  wakened  up 
out  of  a  fearful  dream  ;  he  saw  himself  standing  on  the 
brink  of  the  abyss  of  ruin,  and  stretched  out  his  arms 
in  vain  towards  the  bright  shining  figure  which  had  ap- 
peared to  him,  not,  however,  to  save  him — no — but  to 
remind  him  of  his  damnation. 

"  To  the  astonishment  of  all  Paris,  Chevalier  Me- 
nars'  bank  disappeared  from  the  gambling-house  ;  no- 
body ever  saw  him  again  ;  and  hence  the  most  diverse 
and  extraordinary  rumours  were  current,  each  of  them 
more  false  than  the  rest.  The  Chevalier  shunned  all 
society  ;  his  love  found  expression  in  the  deepest  and 
most  unconquerable  despondency.  It  happened,  how- 
ever, that  old  Vertua  and  his  daughter  one  day  suddenly 
crossed  his  path  in  one  of  the  dark  and  lonely  alleys  of 
the  garden  of  Malmaison.1 

1  Malmaison  is  a  chateau  and  park  situated  about  six  miles  W.  of 
Paris.  It  once  belonged  to  Richelieu  ;  and  there  the  Empress  Jose- 
phine lived,  and  there  she  died  on  the  13th  May,  1814. 


268 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


"  Angela,  who  thought  she  could  never  look  upon 
the  Chevalier  without  contempt  and  abhorrence,  felt 
strangely  moved  on  seeing  him  so  deathly  pale,  terribly 
shaken  with  trouble,  hardly  daring  in  his  shy  respect  to 
raise  his  eyes.  She  knew  quite  well  that  ever  since  that 
ill-omened  night  he  had  altogether  relinquished  gam- 
bling and  effected  a  complete  revolution  in  his  habits 
of  life.  She,  she  alone  had  brought  all  this  about,  she 
had  saved  the  Chevalier  from  ruin — could  anything  be 
more  flattering  to  her  woman's  vanity  ?  Hence  it  was 
that,  after  Vertua  had  exchanged  the  usual  complimen- 
tary remarks  with  the  Chevalier,  Angela  asked  in  a 
tone  of  gentle  and  sympathetic  pity,  '  What  is  the  matter 
with  you,  Chevalier  Menars  ?  You  are  looking  very  ill 
and  full  of  trouble.  I  am  sure  you  ought  to  consult  a 
physician.' 

"  It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  Angela's  words  fell  like 
a  comforting  ray  of  hope  upon  the  Chevalier's  heart. 
From  that  moment  he  was  not  like  the  same  man. 
He  lifted  up  his  head  ;  he  was  able  to  speak  in  those 
tones,  full  of  the  real  inward  nature  of  the  man,  with 
which  he  had  formerly  won  all  hearts.  Vertua  exhorted 
him  to  come  and  take  possession  of  the  house  he  had 
won. 

"  '  Yes,  Sisrnor  Vertua,'  cried  the  Chevalier  with  ani- 
mation,  'yes,  that  I  will  do.  I  will  call  upon  you  to- 
morrow ;  but  let  us  carefully  weigh  and  discuss  all  the 
conditions  of  the  transfer,  even  though  it  should  last 
some  months.' 

"  '  Be.  it  so  then,  Chevalier,'  replied  Vertua,  smiling. 
' 1  fancy  that  there  will  arise  a  good  many  things  to  be 
discussed,  of  which  we  at  the  present  moment  have  no 
idea.'  The  Chevalier,  being  thus  comforted  at  heart, 
could  not  fail  to  develop  again  all  the  charms  of  manner 
which  had  once  been  so  peculiarly  his  own  before  he 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


269 


was  led  astray  by  his  insane,  pernicious  passion  for 
gambling.  His  visits  at  old  Vertua's  grew  more  and 
more  frequent ;  Angela  conceived  a  warmer  and  warmer 
liking  for  the  man  whose  safeguarding  angel  she  had 
been,  until  finally  she  thought  she  loved  him  with  all 
her  heart ;  and  she  promised  him  her  hand,  to  the  great 
joy  of  old  Vertua,  who  at  last  felt  that  the  settlement 
respecting  the  property  he  had  lost  to  the  Chevalier 
could  now  be  concluded. 

"  One  day  Angela,  Chevalier  Menars'  happy  be- 
trothed, sat  at  her  window  wrapped  up  in  varied 
thoughts  of  the  delights  and  happiness  of  love,  such  as 
young  girls  when  betrothed  are  wont  to  dwell  upon. 
A  regiment  of  chasseurs  passed  by  to  the  merry  sound 
of  the  trumpet,  bound  for  a  campaign  in  Spain.  As 
Angela  was  regarding  with  sympathetic  interest  the 
poor  men  who  were  doomed  to  death  in  the  wicked  war, 
a  young  man  wheeled  his  horse  quickly  to  one  side 
and  looked  up  at  her,  and  she  sank  back  in  her  chair 
fainting. 

"  Oh  !  the  chasseur  who  was  riding  to  meet  a  bloody 
death  was  none  other  than  young  Duvernet,  their 
neighbour's  son,  with  whom  she  had  grown  up,  who 
had  run  in  and  out  of  the  house  nearly  every  day,  and 
had  only  kept  away  since  the  Chevalier  had  begun  to 
visit  them. 

"  In  the  young  man's  glance,  which  was  charged 
with  reproaches  having  all  the  bitterness  of  death  in 
them,  Angela  became  conscious  for  the  first  time,  not 
only  that  he  loved  her  unspeakably,  but  also  how  bound- 
less was  the  love  which  she  herself  felt  for  him.  Hith- 
erto she  had  not  been  conscious  of  it  ;  she  had  been  in- 
fatuated, fascinated  by  the  glitter  which  gathered  ever 
more  thickly  about  the  Chevalier.  She  now  under- 
stood, and  for  the  first  time,  the  youth's  labouring  sighs 


270 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


and  quiet  unpretending  homage  ;  and  now  too  she  also 
understood  her  own  embarrassed  heart  for  the  first  time, 
knew  what  had  caused  the  fluttering  sensation  in  her 
breast  when  Duvernet  had  come,  and  when  she  had 
heard  his  voice. 

"  '  It  is  too  late  !  I  have  lost  him  ! '  was  the  voice  that 
spoke  in  Angela's  soul.  She  had  courage  enough  to 
beat  down  the  feelings  of  wretchedness  which  threat- 
ened to  distract  her  heart ;  and  for  that  reason — namely, 
that  she  possessed  the  courage — she  succeeded. 

"  Nevertheless  it  did  not  escape  the  Chevalier's  acute 
perception  that  something  had  happened  to  powerfully 
affect  Angela  ;  but  he  possessed  sufficient  delicacy  of 
feeling  not  to  seek  for  a  solution  of  the  mystery,  which 
it  was  evident  she  desired  to  conceal  from  him.  He 
contented  himself  with  depriving  any  dangerous  rival 
of  his  power  by  expediting  the  marriage  ;  and  he  made 
all  arrangements  for  its  celebration  with  such  fine  tact, 
and  such  a  sympathetic  appreciation  of  his  fair  bride's 
situation  and  sentiments,  that  she  saw  in  them  a  new 
proof  of  the  good  and  amiable  qualities  of  her  hus- 
band. 

"  The  Chevalier's  behaviour  towards  Angela  showed 
him  attentive  to  her  slightest  wish,  and  exhibited  that 
sincere  esteem  which  springs  from  the  purest  affection  ; 
hence  her  memory  of  Duvernet  soon  vanished  entirely 
from  her  mind.  The  first  cloud  that  dimmed  the  bright 
heaven  of  her  happiness  was  the  illness  and  death  of 
old  Vertua. 

"  Since  the  night  when  he  had  lost  all  his  fortune  at 
the  Chevalier's  bank  he  had  never  touched  a  card,  but 
during  the  last  moments  of  his  life  play  seemed  to  have 
taken  complete  possession  of  his  soul.  Whilst  the 
priest  who  had  come  to  administer  to  him  the  consola- 
tion of  the  Church  ere  he  died,  was  speaking  to  him  of 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


271 


heavenly  things,  he  lay  with  his  eyes  closed,  murmuring 
between  his  teeth,  ' perd,  gagne,'  whilst  his  trembling 
half-dead  hands  went  through  the  motions  of  dealing 
through  a  tatlle,  of  drawing  the  cards.  Both  Angela 
and  the  Chevalier  bent  over  him  and  spoke  to  him  in 
the  tenderest  manner,  but  it  was  of  no  use  ;  he  no 
longer  seemed  to  know  them,  nor  even  to  be  aware  of 
their  presence.  With  a  deep-drawn  sigh  ' gagne?  he 
breathed  his  last. 

"  In  the  midst  of  her  distressing  grief  Angela  could 
not  get  rid  of  an  uncomfortable  feeling  of  awe  at  the 
way  in  which  the  old  man  had  died.  She  again  saw  in 
vivid  shape  the  picture  of  that  terrible  night  when  she 
had  first  seen  the  Chevalier  as  a  most  hardened  and 
reprobate  gambler  ;  and  the  fearful  thought  entered 
her  mind  that  he  might  again,  in  scornful  mockery  of 
her,  cast  aside  his  mask  of  goodness  and  appear  in  Iiis 
original  fiendish  character,  and  begin  to  pursue  his  old 
course  of  life  once  more. 

"And  only  too  soon  was  Angela's  dreaded  foreboding 
to  become  reality.  However  great  the  awe  which  fell 
upon  the  Chevalier  at  old  Francesco  Vertua's  death- 
scene,  when  the  old  man,  despising  the  consolation  of 
the  Church,  though  in  the  last  agonies  of  death,  had 
not  been  able  to  turn  his  thoughts  from  his  former  sin- 
ful life — however  great  was  the  awe  that  then  fell  upon 
the  Chevalier,  yet  his  mind  was  thereby  led,  though 
how  he  could  not  explain,  to  dwell  more  keenly  upon 
play  than  ever  before,  so  that  every  night  in  his  dreams 
he  sat  at  the  faro-bank  and  heaped  up  riches  anew. 

"  In  proportion  as  Angela's  behaviour  became  more 
constrained,  in  consequence  of  her  recollection  of  the 
character  in  which  she  had  first  seen  the  Chevalier, 
and  as  it  became  more  and  more  impossible  for  her  to 
continue  to  meet  him  upon  the  old  affectionate,  con- 


272 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


fidential  footing  upon  which  they  had  hitherto  lived, 
so  exactly  in  the  same  degree  distrust  of  Angela  crept 
into  the  Chevalier's  mind,  since  he  ascribed  her  con- 
straint to  the  secret  which  had  once  disturbed  her 
peace  of  mind  and  which  had  not  been  revealed  to 
him.  From  this  distrust  were  born  displeasure  and 
unpleasantness,  and  these  he  expressed  in  various  ways 
which  hurt  Angela's  feelings.  By  a  singular  cross-ac- 
tion of  spiritual  influence  Angela's  recollections  of  the 
unhappy  Duvernet  began  to  recur  to  her  mind  with 
fresher  force,  and  along  with  these  the  intolerable  con- 
sciousness of  her  ruined  love, — the  loveliest  blossom 
that  had  budded  in  her  youthful  heart.  The  strained 
relations  between  the  pair  continued  to  increase  until 
things  got  to  such  a  pitch  that  the  Chevalier  grew  dis- 
gusted with  his  simple  mode  of  life,  thought  it  dull, 
and  was  smitten  with  a  powerful  longing  to  enjoy  the 
life  of  the  world  again.  His  star  of  ill  omen  began  to 
acquire  the  ascendancy.  The  change  which  had  been 
inaugurated  by  displeasure  and  great  unpleasantness 
was  completed  by  an  abandoned  wretch  who  had  for- 
merly been  croupier  in  the  Chevalier's  faro-bank.  He 
succeeded  by  means  of  the  most  artful  insinuations  and 
conversations  in  making  the  Chevalier  look  upon*  his 
present  walk  of  life  as  childish  and  ridiculous.  The 
Chevalier  could  not  understand  at  last  how,  for  a 
woman's  sake,  he  ever  came  to  leave  a  world  which 
appeared  to  him  to  contain  all  that  made  life  of  any 
worth. 

"  It  was  not  long  ere  Chevalier  Menars'  rich  bank 
was  flourishing  more  magnificently  than  ever.  His 
good-luck  had  not  left  him  ;  victim  after  victim  came 
and  fell ;  he  amassed  heaps  of  riches.  But  Angela's 
happiness — it  was  ruined — ruined  in  fearful  fashion  ; 
it  was  to  be  compared  to  a  short  fair  dream.  The 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


273 


Chevalier  treated  her  with  indifference,  nay  even  with 
contempt.  Often,  for  weeks  and  months  together, 
she  never  saw  him  once  ;  the  household  arrangements 
were  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  steward  ;  the  servants 
were  being  constantly  changed  to  suit  the  Chevalier's 
whims  ;  so  that  Angela,  a  stranger  in  her  own  house, 
knew  not  where  to  turn  for  comfort.  Often  during 
her  sleepless  nights  the  Chevalier's  carriage  stopped 
before  the  door,  the  heavy  strong-box  was  carried  up- 
stairs, the  Chevalier  flung  out  a  few  harsh  monosyllabic 
words  of  command,  and  then  the  doors  of  his  distant 
room  were  sent  to  with  a  bang — all  this  she  heard, 
and  a  flood  of  bitter  tears  started  from  her  eyes.  Ina 
state  of  the  most  heart-rending  anguish  she  called  upon 
Duvernet  time  after  time,  and  implored  Providence 
to  put  an  end  to  her  miserable  life  of  trouble  and 
suffering. 

"  One  day  a  young  man  of  good  family,  after  losing 
all  his  fortune  at  the  Chevalier's  bank,  sent  a  bullet 
through  his  brain  in  the  gambling-house,  and  in  the 
very  same  room  even  in  which  the  bank  was  estab- 
lished, so  that  the  players  were  sprinkled  by  the  blood 
and  scattered  brains,  and  started  up  aghast.  The 
Chevalier  alone  preserved  his  indifference  ;  and,  as  all 
were  preparing  to  leave  the  apartment,  he  asked 
whether  it  was  in  accordance  with  their  rules  and 
custom  to  leave  the  bank  before  the  appointed  hour 
on  account  of  a  fool  who  had  had  no  conduct  in  his 
play. 

"  The  occurrence  created  a  great  sensation.  The 
most  experienced  and  hardened  gamblers  were  indig- 
nant at  the  Chevalier's  unexampled  behaviour.  The 
voice  of  the  public  was  raised  against  him.  The  bank 
was  closed  by  the  police.  He  was,  moreover,  accused 
of  false  play  ;  and  his  unprecedented  good-luck  tended 
Vol.  II.— 18 


274 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


to  establish  the  truth  of  the  charge.  He  was  unable 
to  clear  himself.  The  fine  he  was  compelled  to  pay 
deprived  him  of  a  considerable  part  of  his  riches.  He 
found  himself  disgraced  and  looked  upon  with  con- 
tempt ;  then  he  went  back  to  the  arms  of  the  wife  he 
had  ill-used,  and  she  willingly  received  him,  the  peni- 
tent, since  the  remembrance  of  how  her  own  father  had 
turned  aside  from  the  demoralising  life  of  a  gambler 
allowed  a  glimmer  of  hope  to  rise,  that  the  Chevalier's 
conversion  might  this  time,  now  that  he  was  older, 
really  have  some  stamina  in  it. 

''The  Chevalier  left  Paris  along  with  his  wife,  and 
went  to  Genoa,  Angela's  birthplace.  Here  he  led  a 
very  retired  life  at  first.  But  all  endeavours  to  restore 
the  footing  of  quiet  domesticity  with  Angela,  which 
his  evil  genius  had  destroyed,  were  in  vain.  It  was 
not  long  before  his  deep-rooted  discontent  awoke  anew 
and  drove  him  out  of  the  house  in  a  state  of  uneasy, 
unsettled  restlessness.  His  evil  reputation  had  followed 
him  from  Paris  to  Genoa  ;  he  dare  not  venture  to  es- 
tablish a  bank,  although  he  was  being  goaded  to  do  so 
by  a  power  he  could  hardly  resist. 

"  At  that  time  the  richest  bank  in  Genoa  was  kept 
by  a  French  colonel,  who  had  been  invalided  owing  to 
serious  wounds.  His  heart  burning  with  envy  and 
fierce  hatred,  the  Chevalier  appeared  at  the  Colonel's 
table,  expecting  that  his  usual  good  fortune  would 
stand  by  him,  and  that  he  should  soon  ruin  his  rival. 
The  Colonel  greeted  him  in  a  merry  humour,  such  as 
was  in  general  not  customary  with  him,  and  said  that 
now  the  play  would  really  be  worth  indulging  in  since 
they  had  got  Chevalier  Menars  and  his  good-luck  to 
join  them,  for  now  would  come  the  struggle  which 
alone  made  the  game  interesting. 

"  And  in  fact  during  the  first  taille  the  cards  fell  fa- 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


275 


vourable  to  the  Chevalier  as  they  always  had  done.  But 
when,  relying  upon  his  invincible  luck,  he  at  last  cried 
1  Va  banquet  1  he  lost  a  very  considerable  sum  at  one 
stroke. 

"The  Colonel,  at  other  times  preserving  the  same 
even  temperament  whether  winning  or  losing,  now 
swept  the  money  towards  him  with  the  most  demon- 
strative signs  of  extreme  delight.  From  this  moment 
fortune  turned  away  from  the  Chevalier  utterly  and 
completely.  He  played  every  night,  and  every  night 
he  lost,  until  his  property  had  melted  away  to  a  few 
thousand  ducats,2  which  he  still  had  in  securities. 

"  The  Chevalier  had  spent  the  whole  day  in  running 
about  to  get  his  securities  converted  into  ready  money, 
and  did  not  reach  home  until  late  in  the  evening.  So 
soon  as  it  was  fully  night,  he  was  about  to  leave  the 
house  with  his  last  gold  pieces  in  his  pocket,  when  An- 
gela, who  suspected  pretty  much  how  matters  stood, 
stepped  in  his  path  and  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  whilst 
a  flood  of  tears  gushed  from  her  eves,  beseeching  him 
by  the  Virgin  and  all  the  saints  to  abandon  his  wicked 
purpose,  and  not  to  plunge  her  in  want  and  misery. 

"  He  raised  her  up  and  strained  her  to  his  heart  with 
painful  passionate  intensity,  saying  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
'Angela,  my  dear  sweet  Angela  !  It  can't  be  helped  now, 
indeed  it  must  be  so  ;  I  must  go  on  with  it,  for  I  can't 
let  it  alone.  But  to-morrow — to-morrow  all  your  troubles 
shall  be  over,  for  by  the  Eternal  Destiny  that  rules  over 
us  I  swear  that  to-day  shall  be  the  last  time  I  will  play. 
Quiet  yourself,  my  dear  good  child — go  and  sleep — 
dream  of  happy  days  to  come,  of  a  better  life  that  is  in 

1  "  Va  bout'1'1  or  "  Va  banque"  meant  a  challenge  to  the  bank  to  the 
full  amount  of  the  highest  limit  of  play,  and  if  the  punter  won  he 
virtually  broke  the  bank. 

2  See  note,  page  98,  Vol.  I. 


276 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


store  for  you  ;  that  will  bring  good-luck.  Herewith  he 
kissed  his  wife  and  hurried  off  before  she  could  stop  him. 

"  Two  taiiles,  and  the  Chevalier  had  lost  all — all.  He 
stood  beside  the  Colonel,  staring  upon  the  faro-table  in 
moody  senselessness. 

"  1  Are  you  not  punting  any  more,  Chevalier  ? '  said 
the  Colonel,  shuffling  the  cards  for  a  new  taille.  1 1  have 
lost  all,'  replied  the  Chevalier,  forcing  himself  with  an 
effort  to  be  calm. 

"  '  Have  you  really  nothing  left  ? '  asked  the  Colonel 
at  the  next  taille. 

"'I  am  a  beggar,'  cried  the  Chevalier,  his  voice 
trembling  with  rage  and  mortification  ;  and  he  contin- 
ued to  stare  fiercely  upon  the  table  without  observing 
that  the  players  were  gaining  more  and  more  advan- 
tages over  the  banker. 

"  The  Colonel  went  on  playing  quietly.  But  whilst 
shuffling  the  cards  for  the  following  taille,  he  said  in  a 
low  voice,  without  looking  at  the  Chevalier,  '  But  you 
have  a  beautiful  wife.' 

"  'What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?'  burst  out  the  Cheva- 
lier angrily.  The  Colonel  drew  his  cards  without  mak- 
ing any  answer. 

"  1  Ten  thousand  ducats  or — Angela  ! '  said  the  Col- 
onel, half  turning  round  whilst  the  cards  were  being 
cut. 

"'You  are  mad!'  exclaimed  the  Chevalier,  who 
now  began  to  observe  on  coming  more  to  himself  that 
the  Colonel  continually  lost  and  lost  again. 

"  '  Twenty  thousand  ducats  against  Angela  ! '  said 
the  Colonel  in  a  low  voice,  pausing  for  a  moment  in 
his  shuffling  of  the  cards. 

"  The  Chevalier  did  not  reply.  The  Colonel  went 
on  playing,  and  almost  all  the  cards  fell  to  the  players' 
side. 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


277 


"  '  Taken  ! '  whispered  the  Chevalier  in  the  Colonel's 
ear,  as  the  new  taille  began,  and  he  pushed  the  queen 
on  the  table. 

"  In  the  next  draw  the  queen  had  lost.  The  Cheva- 
lier drew  back  from  the  table,  grinding  his  teeth,  and 
in  despair  stood  leaning  in  a  window,  his  face  deathly 
pale. 

"  Play  was  over.  1  Well,  and  what's  to  be  done 
now  ?  '  were  the  Colonel's  mocking  words  as  he 
stepped  up  to  the  Chevalier. 

"'Ah!'  cried  the  Chevalier,  quite  beside  himself, 
'you  have  made  me  a  beggar,  but  you  must  be  insane 
to  imagine  that  you  could  win  my  wife.  Are  we  on 
the  islands  ?  is  my  wife  a  slave,  exposed  as  a  mere 
thing  to  the  brutal  arbitrariness  of  a  reprobate  man, 
that  he  may  trade  with  her,  gamble  with  her  ?  But  it 
is  true  !  You  would  have  had  to  pay  twenty  thousand 
ducats  if  the  queen  had  won,  and  so  I  have  lost  all 
right  to  raise  a  protest  if  my  wife  is  willing  to  leave 
me  to  follow  you.  Come  along  with  me,  and  despair 
when  you  see  how  my  wife  will  repel  you  with  detesta- 
tion when  you  propose  to  her  that  she  shall  follow  you 
as  your  shameless  mistress.' 

"  'You  will  be  the  one  to  despair,'  replied  the 
Colonel,  with  a  mocking,  scornful  laugh  ;  1  you  will 
be  the  one  to  despair,  Chevalier,  when  Angela  turns 
with  abhorrence  from  you — you,  the  abandoned  sinner, 
who  have  made  her  life  miserable — and  flies  into  my 
arms  in  rapture  and  delight  ;  you  will  be  the  one  to 
despair  when  you  learn  that  we  have  been  united  by 
the  blessing  of  the  Church,  and  that  our  dearest  wishes 
are  crowned  with  happiness.  You  call  me  insane. 
Ho  !  ho  !  All  I  wanted  to  win  was  the  right  to  claim 
her,  for  of  Angela  herself  I  am  sure.  Ho  !  ho  !  Che- 
valier, let  me  inform  you  that  your  wife  loves  me — 


278 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


me,  with  unspeakable  love  :  let  me  inform  you  that  I 
am  that  Duvernet,  the  neighbour's  son,  who  was 
brought  up  along  with  Angela,  bound  to  her  by  ties  of 
the  most  ardent  affection — he  whom  you  drove  away 
by  means  of  your  diabolical  devices.  Ah  !  it  was  not 
until  I  had  to  go  away  to  the  wars  that  Angela  became 
conscious  to  herself  of  what  I  was  to  her  ;  I  know  all. 
It  was  too  late.  The  Spirit  of  Evil  suggested  to  me 
the  idea  that  I  might  ruin  you  in  play,  and  so  I  took 
to  gambling — followed  you  to  Genoa, — and  now  I  have 
succeeded.    Away  now  to  your  wife.' 

"  The  Chevalier  was  almost  annihilated,  like  one 
upon  whose  head  had  fallen  the  most  disastrous  blows 
of  fortune.  Now  he  saw  to  the  bottom  of  that  myste- 
rious secret,  now  he  saw  for  the  first  time  the  full 
extent  of  the  misfortune  which  he  had  brought  upon 
poor  Angela.  1  Angela,  my  wife,  shall  decide,'  he  said 
hoarsely,  and  followed  the  Colonel,  who  was  hurrying 
off  at  full  speed. 

"  On  reaching  the  house  the  Colonel  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  latch  of  Angela's  chamber  ;  but  the  Chevalier 
pushed  him  back,  saying,  '  My  wife  is  asleep.  Do  you 
want  to  rouse  her  up  out  of  her  sweet  sleep  ? 1 

"  '  Hm  ! '  replied  the  Colonel.  *  Has  Angela  ever 
enjoyed  sweet  sleep  since  you  brought  all  this  name- 
less misery  upon  her  ? '  Again  the  Colonel  attempted 
to  enter  the  chamber  ;  but  the  Chevalier  threw  himself 
at  his  feet  and  screamed,  frantic  with  despair,  '  Be  mer- 
ciful. Let  me  keep  my  wife  ;  you  have  made  me  a 
beggar,  but  let  me  keep  my  wife.' 

"  '  That's  how  old  Vertua  lay  at  your  feet,  you  mis- 
creant dead  to  all  feeling,  and  could  not  move  your 
stony  heart  ;  may  Heaven's  vengeance  overtake  you 
for  it.'  Thus  spoke  the  Colonel  ;  and  he  again  strode 
towards  Angela's  chamber. 


GAMBLER'S  LUCK. 


279 


"The  Chevalier  sprang  towards  the  door,  tore  it 
open,  rushed  to  the  bed  in  which  his  wife  lay,  and 
drew  back  the  curtains,  crying,  '  Angela  !  Angela  !  ' 
Bending  over  her,  he  grasped  her  hand  ;  but  all  at 
once  he  shook  and  trembled  in  mortal  anguish  and 
cried  in  a  thundering  voice,  'Look  !  look  !  you  have 
won  my  wife's  corpse.' 

"  Perfectly  horrified,  the  Colonel  approached  the 
bed  ;  no  sign  of  life  ! — Angela  was  dead — dead. 

"  Then  the  Colonel  doubled  his  fist  and  shook  it 
heavenwards,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room  uttering  a 
fearful  cry.    Nothing  more  was  ever  heard  of  him." 

This  was  the  end  of  the  strangers  tale  ;  and  the 
Baron  was  so  shaken  that  before  he  could  say  anything 
the  stranger  had  hastily  risen  from  the  seat  and  gone 
away. 

A  few  days  later  the  stranger  was  found  in  his  room 
suffering  from  apoplexy  of  the  nerves.  He  never 
opened  his  mouth  up  to  the  moment  of  his  death, 
which  ensued  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  hours.  His 
papers  proved  that,  though  he  called  himself  Baudasson 
simply,  he  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  unhappy 
Chevalier  Menars  himself. 

The  Baron  recognised  it  as  a  warning  from  Heaven, 
that  Chevalier  Menars  had  been  led  across  his  path  to 
save  him  just  as  he  was  approaching  the  brink  of  the 
precipice  ;  he  vowed  that  he  would  withstand  all  the 
seductions  of  the  gambler's  deceptive  luck. 

Up  till  now  he  has  faithfully  kept  his  word. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT* 


T  the  time  when  people  in  the  beautiful  and  plea- 


sant  town  of  Bamberg  lived,  according  to  the 
well-known  saying,  well,  i.e.,  under  the  crook,  namely 
in  the  end  of  the  previous  century,  there  was  also  one 
inhabitant,  a  man  belonging  to  the  burgher  class,  who 
might  be  called  in  every  respect  both  singular  and 
eminent.  His  name  was  Johannes  Wacht,  and  his  trade 
was  that  of  a  carpenter. 

Nature,  in  weighing  and  definitely  determining  her 
children's  destinies,  pursues  her  own  dark  inscrutable 
path  ;  and  all  that  is  claimed  by  convenience,  and  by 
the  opinions  and  considerations  which  prevail  in  man's 
narrow  existence,  as  determining  factors  in  settling  the 
true  tendency  of  every  man's  self,  Nature  regards  as 
nothing  more  than  the  pert  play  of  deluded  children 
imagining  themselves  to  be  wise.  But  short-sighted 
man  often  finds  an  insuperable  irony  in  the  contra- 
diction between  the  conviction  of  his  own  mind  and 
the  mysterious  ordering  of  this  inscrutable  Power, 
who  first  nourished  and  fed  him  at  her  maternal  bosom 
and  then  deserted  him  ;  and  this  irony  fills  him  with 
terror  and  awe,  since  it  threatens  to  annihilate  his  own 
self. 

1  Included  in  a  collection  of  stories  entitled  Geschichten,  Märchen, 
und  Sagen,  Von  Fr.  H.  v.  d.  Hagen,  E.  T.  A.  Hoffmann,  und  H. 
Steffens;  Breslau,  1823. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


281 


The  mother  of  Life  does  not  choose  for  her  favourites 
either  the  palaces  of  the  great  or  the  state-apartments 
of  princes.  And  so  she  made  our  Johannes,  who,  as 
the  kindly  reader  will  soon  learn,  might  be  called  one 
of  her  most  richly  endowed  favourites,  first  see  the  light 
of  the  world  on  a  wretched  heap  of  straw,  in  the  work- 
shop of  an  impoverished  master  turner  in  Augsburg. 
His  mother  died  of  want  and  from  suffering  soon  after 
the  child's  birth,  and  his  father  followed  her  after  the 
lapse  of  a  few  months. 

The  town  government  had  to  take  charge  of  the 
helpless  boy  ;  and  when  the  Council's  master  carpenter, 
a  well-to-do,  respectable  man,  who  found  in  the  child's 
face,  notwithstanding  that  it  was  pinched  with  hunger, 
certain  traits  which  pleased  him, — when  he  would  not 
suffer  the  boy  to  be  lodged  in  a  public  institution,  but 
took  him  into  his  own  house,  in  order  to  bring  him  up 
along  with  his  own  children,  then  there  dawned  upon 
Johannes  his  first  genial  ray  of  sunshine,  heralding  a 
happier  lot  in  the  future. 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  the  boy's  frame 
developed,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  the 
little  insignificant  creature  in  the  cradle  had  really 
been  the  shapeless  colourless  chrysalis  out  of  which 
this  pretty,  living,  golden-locked  boy  had  proceeded, 
like  a  beautiful  butterfly.  But — what  seemed  of  more 
importance — along  with  this  pleasing  grace  of  physical 
form  the  boy  soon  displayed  such  eminent  intellectual 
faculties  as  astonished  both  his  foster-father  and  his 
teachers.  Johannes  grew  up  in  a  workshop  which  sent 
forth  some  of  the  best  and  highest  work  that  mechan- 
ical skill  was  able  to  produce,  since  the  master  carpen- 
ter to  the  Council  was  constantly  engaged  upon  the 
most  important  buildings.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that 
the  child's  mind,  which  caught  up  everything  with 


232 


MASTER   JOHANNES  WACHT. 


such  keen  clear  perception,  should  be  excited  thereby, 
and  should  feel  all  his  heart  drawn  towards  a  trade  the 
deeper  significance  of  which,  in  so  far  as  it  was  con- 
cerned with  the  material  creation  of  great  and  bold 
ideas,  he  dimly  felt  deep  down  in  his  soul.  The  joy 
that  this  bent  of  the  orphan's  mind  occasioned  his 
foster-father  may  well  be  conceived  ;  and  hence  he  felt 
persuaded  to  teach  the  boy  all  practical  matters  himself 
with  great  care  and  attention,  and  furthermore,  when 
he  had  grown  into  a  youth,  to  have  him  instructed  by 
the  cleverest  masters  in  all  the  higher  branches  of 
knowledge  connected  with  the  trade,  both  theoretical 
and  practical,  such  as,  for  instance,  drawing,  architec- 
ture, mechanics,  &c. 

Our  Johannes  was  four  and  twenty  years  of  age 
when  the  old  master  carpenter  died  ;  and  even  at  that 
time  his  foster-son  wTas  a  thoroughly  experienced  and 
skilful  journeyman  in  all  branches  of  his  craft,  whose 
equal  could  not  be  found  far  and  near.  At  this  period 
Johannes  set  out,  along  with  his  true  and  faithful  com- 
rade Engelbrecht,  on  the  usual  journeyman's  1  travels. 

Herewith  you  know,  indulgent  reader,  all  that  it  is 
needful  to  know  about  the  youth  of  our  worthy  Wacht ; 
and  it  only  remains  to  tell  you  in  a  few  words  how  it 
was  that  he  came  to  settle  in  Bamberg  and  how  he  be- 
came master  there. 

After  being  on  the  travel  for  a  pretty  long  time  he 
happened  to  arrive  at  Bamberg  on  his  way  home  along 
with  his  comrade  Engelbrecht ;  and  there  they  found 
the  Bishop's  palace  undergoing  thorough  repair,  and 
particularly  on  that  side  of  it  where  the  walls  rose  up 
to  a  great  height  out  of  a  very  narrow  alley  or  court. 
Here  an  entirely  new  roof  was  to  be  put  up,  of  very 


1  See  note  p.  8i,  Vol.  II. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


283 


great  and  very  heavy  beams  ;  and  they  wanted  a  machine, 
which,  whilst  taking  up  the  least  possible  room,  would 
possess  sufficient  concentration  of  power  to  raise  the 
heavy  weights  up  to  the  required  height.  The  Prince- 
bishop's  builder,  who  knew  how  to  calculate  to  a  nicety 
how  Trajan's  Column  in  Rome  had  been  made  to  stand, 
and  also  knew  the  hundred  or  more  mistakes  that  had 
been  made  which  he  should  never  have  laid  himself 
open  to  the  reproach  of  committing,  had  indeed  con- 
structed a  machine — a  sort  of  crane — which  was  very 
nice  to  look  at,  and  was  praised  by  everybody  as  a 
masterpiece  of  mechanical  skill  ;  but  when  the  men 
tried  to  set  the  thing  agoing,  it  turned  out  that  the 
Herr  builder  had  calculated  upon  downright  Samsons 
and  Herculeses.  The  wheels  creaked  and  squeaked 
horribly  ;  the  huge  beams  which  were  hooked  on  to  the 
crane  did  not  budge  an  inch  ;  the  men  declared,  whilst 
shaking  the  sweat  from  their  brows,  that  they  would 
much  sooner  carry  ships'  mainmasts  up  steep  stairs 
than  strain  themselves  in  this  way,  and  waste  all  their 
best  strength  in  vain  over  such  a  machine  ;  and  there 
matters  remained. 

Standing  at  some  distance,  Wacht  and  Engelbrecht 
looked  on  at  what  they  were  doing,  or  rather,  not  doing  ; 
and  it  is  possible  that  Wacht  may  have  smiled  just  a 
little  at  the  builder's  want  of  knowledge. 

A  grey-headed  old  foreman,  recognising  the  strangers' 
handicraft  from  their  clothing,  stepped  up  to  them  with- 
out more  ado,  and  asked  Wacht  if  he  understood  how 
to  manage  the  machine  any  better  since  he  looked  so 
cunning  about  it.  "  Ah,  well  !  "  replied  Wacht,  with- 
out being  in  the  least  disconcerted,  "  ah  well  ;  it's  a 
doubtful  point  whether  I  know  better,  for  every  fool 
thinks  he  understands  everything  better  than  anybody 
else  ;  but  I  can't  help  wondering  that  in  this  part  of 


284 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


the  country  you  don't  seem  to  be  acquainted  with  a 
certain  simple  contrivance,  which  would  easily  perform 
all  that  the  Herr  Builder  yonder  is  vainly  tormenting 
his  men  to  accomplish." 

The  young  man's  bold  answer  nettled  the  grey- 
haired  old  foreman  not  a  little  ;  he  turned  away 
muttering  to  himself  ;  and  very  soon  it  was  known  to 
them  all  that  a  young  stranger,  a  carpenter's  jour- 
neyman, had  laughed  the  builder  together  with  his 
machine  to  scorn,  and  boasted  that  he  was  acquainted 
with  a  more  serviceable  contrivance.  As  is  usually 
the  case,  nobody  paid  any  heed  to  it  ;  but  the  worthy 
builder  as  well  as  the  honourable  guild  of  carpenters 
in  Bamberg  were  of  opinion  that  the  stranger  had  not, 
it  was  to  be  presumed,  devoured  up  all  the  wisdom  of 
the  world,  nor  would  he  presume  to  dictate  to  and 
teach  old  and  experienced  masters.  "  Now  do  you  see? 
Johannes,"  said  Engelbrecht  to  his  comrade,  "now  do 
you  see  how  your  rash  boldness  has  again  provoked 
against  you  the  people  whom  we  must  meet  as  com- 
rades of  the  craft  ?  " 

"  Who  can,  who  may  look  on  quietly,"  replied  Jo- 
hannes, whilst  his  eyes  flashed,  "  when  the  poor  labour- 
ers— I'm  sure  they're  to  be  pitied — are  tormented  so 
and  made  to  work  beyond  all  reason,  and  that  all  to 
no  purpose.  And  who  knows  whether  my  rash  bold- 
ness may  not,  after  all,  have  beneficial  consequences?" 
And  it  really  turned  out  to  be  so. 

One  single  individual,  of  such  pre-eminent  intel- 
lectual capacity  that  no  gleam  of  knowledge,  however 
fugitive  it  might  be,  ever  escaped  his  keen  penetration, 
attached  a  quite  different  importance  to  the  youth's 
words  from  what  the  rest  did,  for  the  builder  had 
reported  them  to  him  as  the  presumptuous  saying  of  a 
young  fledgling  carpenter.    This  man  was  the  Prince- 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


285 


bishop  himself.  He  had  the  young  man  summoned  to 
his  presence,  that  he  might  inquire  further  into  the 
import  of  his  words,  and  was  not  a  little  astonished 
both  at  his  appearance  and  at  his  general  bearing 
and  character.  My  kindly  reader  ought  to  know 
what  this  astonishment  was  due  to,  and  now  is  the 
time  to  tell  him  something  more  about  Johannes 
Wacht's  exterior  and  Johannes  Wacht's  mind  and 
thoughts. 

As  far  as  his  face  and  figure  were  concerned,  he 
might  justly  be  called  a  remarkably  handsome  young 
fellow,  and  yet  his  noble  features  and  majestic  stature 
did  not  attain  to  full  perfection  until  after  he  had 
reached  a  riper  manhood.  ^Esthetic  canons  of  the  ca- 
thedral credited  Johannes  with  having  the  head  of  an 
old  Roman  ;  a  younger  member  of  the  same  fraternity, 
who  even  in  the  severest  winter  was  in  the  habit  of 
going  about  dressed  in  black  silk,  and  who  had  read 
Schiller's  Fiesko,  maintained,  on  the  contrary,  that  Jo- 
hannes Wacht  was  Verrina  1  in  the  flesh. 

But  the  mysterious  charm  by  means  of  which  many 
highly-gifted  men  are  enabled  to  win  at  once  the  con- 
fidence of  those  whom  they  approach  does  not  consist 
in  beauty  and  grace  of  external  form  alone.  We  in 
a  certain  sense  feel  their  superiority  ;  yet  this  feeling 
is  by  no  means  an  oppressive  feeling  as  might  be 
imagined ;  but,  whilst  elevating  the  spirit,  it  also 
excites  a  certain  kind  of  mental  comfort  that  does  us 
an  incalculable  amount  of  good.  All  the  factors  of 
the  physical  and  intellectual  organism  are  united  into 
a  whole  by  the  most  perfect  harmony,  so  that  the 
contact  with  the  superior  soul  is  like  a  pure  strain  of 

1  The  stern  inexorable  Republican  patriot,  who  kills  even  his  friend 
Fiesco  when  the  latter  refuses  to  throw  aside  the  purple  dignity  he  had 
assumed.  See  Schiller's  Fiesko,  act  v.,  last  scene  (cf.  I.  10-13 ;  III.  1). 


286 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


music  ;  it  suffers  no  discord.  This  harmony  creates 
that  inimitable  deportment,  that — one  might  almost 
say — comfort  in  the  slightest  movements,  through 
which  the  consciousness  of  true  human  dignity  is 
proclaimed.  This  deportment  can  be  taught  by  no 
dancing-master,  by  no  Prince's  tutor  ;  and  well  and 
rightly  does  it  deserve  its  proper  name  of  the  dis- 
tinguished deportment,  since  it  is  stamped  as  such 
by  Nature  herself.  Here  need  only  be  added  that 
Master  Wacht,  unflinchingly  constant  in  generosity, 
truth,  and  faithfulness  to  his  burgher  standing,  became 
as  the  years  went  on  ever  more  a  man  of  the  people. 
He  developed  all  the  virtues,  but  at  the  same  time  all 
the  unconquerable  prejudices,  which  are  generally  wont 
to  form  the  unfavourable  sides  of  such  men's  charac- 
ters. My  kindly  reader  will  soon  learn  of  what  these 
prejudices  consisted. 

I  have  now  perhaps  sufficiently  explained  why  it  was 
that  the  young  man's  appearance  made  such  an  un- 
common impression  upon  the  respected  Prince-bishop. 
For  a  long  time  he  observed  the  stalwart  young  work- 
man in  silence,  but  with  visible  satisfaction  ;  then  he 
questioned  him  about  his  previous  life.  Johannes 
answered  all  his  questions  candidly  and  modestly,  and 
finally  explained  to  the  Prince  with  convincing  clear- 
ness, that  the  master-builder's  machine,  though  per- 
haps fitted  for  other  purposes,  would  in  the  present 
case  never  effect  what  it  was  intended  to  do. 

In  reply  to  the  Prince's  inquiry  whether  he  could 
indeed  trust  himself  to  specify  a  machine  that  would 
be  more  suitable  for  the  purpose,  namely,  to  raise  the 
heavy  weights,  the  young  man  replied  that  all  he  re- 
quired to  construct  such  a  machine  was  a  single  day, 
and  the  help  of  his  comrade  Engelbrecht  and  a  few 
skilful  and  willing  labourers. 


\ 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


287 


It  may  be  conceived  with  what  malicious  and  mis- 
chievous inward  joy,  and  with  what  impatience  the 
master-builder,  and  all  who  were  connected  with  him, 
looked  forward  to  the  morrow,  when  the  forward 
stranger  would  be  sent  off  home  covered  with  shame 
and  ridicule.  But  things  turned  out  different  from 
what  these  good-hearted  people  had  expected,  or  in- 
deed had  wished. 

Three  capsterns  suitably  situated  and  so  arranged  as 
to  exert  an  effect  one  upon  another,  and  each  only 
manned  by  eight  labourers,  elevated  the  heavy  beams 
up  to  the  giddy  level  of  the  roof  with  so  much  ease 
that  they  appeared  to  dance  in  the  air.  From  this 
moment  the  brave  clever  craftsman  could  date  the 
foundation  of  his  reputation  in  Bamberg.  The  Prince 
urged  him  seriously  to  stay  in  that  town  and  secure 
his  mastership  ;  towards  the  attainment  of  this  end 
he  would  lend  him  all  the  assistance  he  possibly  could. 
Wacht,  however,  hesitated,  notwithstanding  that  he 
was  very  well  pleased  with  the  pleasant  and  cheap 
town  of  Bamberg.  The  fact  that  several  important 
buildings  were  just  then  in  course  of  erection  put  a 
heavy  weight  into  the  scale  for  staying  ;  but  the  final 
turn  to  the  balance  was  given  by  a  circumstance  which 
is  very  often  wont  to  decide  matters  in  life  ;  namely, 
Johannes  Wacht  found  again  quite  unexpectedly  in 
Bamberg  the  beautiful  virtuous  maiden  whorn^  he  had 
seen  several  years  previously  in  Erlangen,  and  into 
whose  friendly  blue  eyes  he  had  then  peeped  a  little 
too  much.  In  a  few  words,  Johannes  Wacht  became 
master,  married  the  virtuous  maiden  of  Erlangen,  and 
soon  contrived  through  industry  and  skill  to  purchase 
a  pretty  house  on  the  Kaulberg,1  which  had  a  large 


A  long  hilly  street  in  Bamberg. 


283 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


tract  of  garden  ground  stretching  away  back  up  the 
hill,  and  there  he  settled  down  for  life. 

But  upon  whom  does  the  friendly  star  of  good 
fortune  shine  unchangeably  with  the  same  degree  of 
splendour  at  all  times  ?  Providence  had  decreed  that 
our  honest  Johannes  should  be  submitted  to  a  trial 
under  which  perhaps  any  other  man,  with  less  firmness 
of  spirit,  would  have  sunk.  The  first  fruit  of  this  very 
happy  marriage  was  a  son,  an  excellent  youth,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  walking  steadfastly  in  his  father's  foot- 
steps. He  was  eighteen  years  of  age  when  one  night  a 
large  fire  broke  out  not  far  from  Wacht's  house.  Father 
and  son  hurried  to  the  spot,  agreeably  to  their  calling, 
to  help  in  extinguishing  the  flames.  Along  with  other 
carpenters  the  son  boldly  clambered  up  to  the  roof  in 
order  to  cut  away  its  burning  framework,  as  far  as 
could  be  done.  His  father,  who  had  remained  below, 
as  he  always  did,  to  direct  the  demolition  of  walls,  &c, 
and  to  superintend  the  work  of  extinction,  looked  up 
and  seeing  the  imminent  danger  shouted,  "  Johannes  ! 
men  !  come  down !  come  down  ! "  Too  late — with  a 
fearful  crash  the  wall  fell  in  ;  the  son  lay  struck  to 
death  in  the  flames,  which  leapt  up  crackling  louder 
as  if  in  horrid  triumph. 

But  this  terrible  blow  was  not  the  only  one  which 
was  to  fall  upon  poor  Johannes.  An  inconsiderate 
maid-servant  burst  with  a  frantic  cry  of  distress  into 
her  mistress'  room,  who  was  only  partly  convalescent 
from  a  distracting  nervous  disorder,  and  was  in  great 
uneasiness  and  anxiety  about  the  fire,  the  dark-red  re- 
flection of  which  was  flickering  on  the  walls  of  her 
chamber.  "Your  son,  your  Johannes,  is  killed;  the 
wall  has  buried  him  and  his  comrades  in  the  middle  of 
the  flames,"  screamed  the  girl.  As  though  stung  with 
sharp,  sudden  pain,  her  mistress  raised  herself  up  in 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


289 


the  bed  ;  but  breathing  out  a  deep  sigh,  she  sank  back 
upon  the  cushions  again.  She  was  struck  with  paral- 
ysis of  the  nerves ;  she  was  dead. 

"  Now  let  us  see,"  said  the  citizens,  "  how  Master 
Wacht  will  bear  his  great  trouble.  He  has  often 
enough  preached  to  us  that  a  man  ought  not  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  greatest  misfortune,  but  ought  to  bear 
his  head  erect  and  strive  with  the  strength  which  the 
Creator  has  planted  in  every  man's  breast  to  with- 
stand the  misery  that  threatens  him,  so  long  as  the 
contrary  is  not  evidently  decreed  in  the  Eternal  coun- 
sels. Let  us  see  now  what  sort  of  an  example  he  will 
give  us." 

They  were  not  a  little  astonished  when,  although  the 
master  himself  was  not  seen  in  the  workshop,  yet  his 
journeymen's  activity  continued  without  interruption, 
so  that  work  never  stood  still  for  a  single  moment,  but 
went  on  just  as  if  the  master  had  not  experienced  any 
trouble. 

With  steadfast  courage  and  firm  step,  and  with  his 
face  shining  with  all  the  consolation  and  all  the  hope 
that  sprang  from  his  belief — the  true  religion  rooted 
deep  down  in  his  breast — he  had  followed  the  corpses 
of  his  wife  and  son  ;  and  on  the  noon  of  the  same  day 
after  the  funeral,  which  had  taken  place  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  said  to  Engelbrecht,  "Engelbrecht,  it  is  now 
necessary  for  me  to  be  alone  with  my  grief,  which  is 
almost  breaking  my  heart,  in  order  that  I  may  become 
acquainted  with  it  and  strengthen  myself  against  it. 
You,  brother,  my  honest,  industrious  foreman,  will 
know  what  to  do  for  a  week  ;  for  that  space  I  am  go- 
ing to  shut  myself  up  in  my  own  chamber." 

And  indeed  for  a  whole  week  Master  Wacht  never 
left  his  room.  The  maid  frequently  brought  down  his 
food  again  untouched  ;  and  they  often  heard  in  the  pas- 
Vol.  II.— 19 


290 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


sage  his  low,  sad  cry,  cutting  them  to  the  quick,  "  O 
my  wife  !  Ü  my  Johannes  ! " 

Many  of  Wacht's  acquaintances  were  of  opinion  that 
he  ought  not  by  any  means  to  be  left  in  this  solitary 
state  ;  by  brooding  constantly  over  his  grief  his  mind 
might  become  unsettled.  Engelbrecht,  however,  met 
them  with  the  reply,  "  Let  him  alone  ;  you  don't  know 
my  Johannes.  Since  Providence,  in  its  inscrutable 
purposes,  has  sent  him  this  hard  trial,  it  has  also  given 
him  strength  to  overcome  it,  and  all  earthly  consolation 
would  only  outrage  his  feelings.  I  know  in  what  man- 
ner he  is  working  his  way  out  of  his  deep  grief."  These 
last  words  Engelbrecht  uttered  with  a  well-nigh  cun- 
ning look  upon  his  face  ;  but  he  would  not  give  any 
further  information  as  to  what  he  meant.  Wacht's  ac- 
quaintances had  to  content  themselves,  and  leave  the 
unfortunate  man  in  peace. 

A  week  was  passed,  and  early  the  next  morning, 
which  was  a  bright  summer  morning,  at  five  o'clock 
Master  Wacht  came  out  unexpectedly  into  the  work- 
yard  amongst  his  journeymen,  who  were  all  hard  at 
work.  Their  axes  and  saws  stopped,  whilst  they  greeted 
him  with  a  half-sorrowful  cry,  "  Master  Wacht !  Our 
good  Master  Wacht  !  " 

With  a  cheerful  face,  upon  which  the  traces  of  the 
struggle  against  grief  which  he  had  gone  through  had 
deepened  the  expression  of  sterling  good-nature  and 
given  it  a  most  touching  character,  he  stepped  amongst 
his  faithful  workpeople  and  told  them  how  the  good- 
ness of  Heaven  had  sent  down  the  spirit  of  mercy  and 
consolation  upon  him,  and  that  he  was  now  filled  with 
strength  and  courage  to  go  on  and  discharge  the  duties 
of  his  calling.  He  betook  himself  to  the  building  in  the 
middle  of  the  yard,  which  served  for  the  storage  of  the 
tools  at  night,  and  for  keeping  the  plans  and  memo- 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


291 


randa  of  work,  &c.  Englebrecht,  the  journeymen,  the 
apprentices,  followed  him  in  a  string.  On  entering, 
Johannes  stood  rooted  to  the  spot. 

His  poor  boy's  axe,  which  was  identified  by  certain 
distinctive  marks,  had  been  found  with  half-charred 
handle  under  the  ruins  of  the  house  that  had  been 
burnt  down.  His  companions  had  fastened  it  high  up 
on  the  wall  directly  opposite  the  door,  and,  in  a  rather 
rude  attempt  at  art,  had  painted  round  it  a  wreath  of 
roses  and  cypress-branches  ;  and  underneath  the  wreath 
they  had  placed  their  beloved  comrade's  name,  together 
with  the  year  of  his  birth  and  the  date  of  the  ill-omened 
night  when  he  had  met  such  a  violent  death. 

"  Poor  Hans  ! "  1  exclaimed  Master  Wacht  on  per- 
ceiving this  touching  monument  of  the  true  faithful 
spirits,  whilst  a  flood  of  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes. 
"  Poor  Hans  !  the  last  time  you  wielded  that  tool  was 
for  the  welfare  of  your  brothers  ;  but  now  you  are  rest- 
ing in  your  grave,  and  will  never  more  stand  by  my 
side  and  use  your  earnest  industry  in  helping  to  for- 
ward a  good  piece  of  work." 

Then  Master  Wacht  went  round  the  circle  and  gave 
each  journeyman  and  each  apprentice  a  good  honest 
shake  of  the  hand,  saying,  "  Think  of  him."  Then 
they  all  went  back  to  their  work,  except  Engelbrecht, 
whom  Wacht  bid  stay  with  him. 

"See  here,  my  old  comrade,"  cried  Wacht,  "what 
extraordinary  means  the  Eternal  Power  has  chosen  to 
help  me  to  overcome  my  great  trouble.  During  the 
days  when  I  was  almost  heart-broken  with  grief  for 
my  wife  and  child,  whom  I  have  lost  in  such  a  terrible 
way,  there  came  into  my  mind  the  idea  of  a  highly 
artistic  and  complicated  trussed  girder,  which  I  had 


Pet  name  for  Johannes,  the  name  of  Wacht's  son. 


292 


MASTER   JOHANNES  WACHT. 


been  thinking  about  for  a  long  time  without  ever  being 
able  to  see  my  way  to  the  tiling  clearly.    Look  here." 

Therewith  Master  Wacht  unrolled  the  drawing  at 
which  he  had  worked  during  the  past  week,  and  Engel- 
brecht was  greatly  astonished  at  the  boldness  and  orig- 
inality of  the  invention  no  less  than  at  its  exceptional 
neatness  in  the  finished  state.  The  mechanical  part  of 
the  contrivance  was  so  skilfully  and  cleverly  arranged 
that  even  Engelbrecht,  with  all  his  great  experience, 
could  not  comprehend  it  at  once  ;  but  the  greater  there- 
fore was  his  glad  admiration  when  Master  Wacht  ex- 
plained to  him  the  whole  construction  down  to  the 
minutest  details,  and  he  had  convinced  himself  that  the 
putting  of  the  plan  into  execution  could  not  fail  to  be 
successful. 

At  this  time  Wacht's  household  consisted  of  only  two 
daughters  besides  himself  ;  but  it  was  very  soon  to  be 
increased. 

Albeit  a  clever  and  industrious  workman,  Master 
Engelbrecht  had  never  been  able  to  advance  so  far  as 
that  lowest  grade  of  affluence  which  had  been  the  re- 
ward of  Wacht's  very  earliest  undertakings.  He  had 
to  contend  with  the  worst  enemy  of  life,  against  which 
no  human  power  is  of  any  avail  ;  it  not  only  threatened 
to  destroy  him,  but  really  did  destroy  him — namely, 
consumption.  He  died,  leaving  a  wife  and  two  boys 
almost  in  want.  His  wife  went  back  to  her  own  home  ; 
and  Master  Wacht  would  willingly  have  taken  both  boys 
into  his  own  house,  but  this  could  only  be  arranged  in 
the  case  of  the  elder,  who  was  called  Sebastian.  He 
was  a  strong  intelligent  lad,  and  having  an  inclination 
to  follow  his  father's  trade,  promised  to  make  a  good 
clever  carpenter.  He  had,  however,  a  certain  refractori- 
ness of  disposition,  which  at  times  seemed  to  border 
closely  upon  badness,  as  well  as  being  somewhat  rude 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


293 


in  his  manners,  and  even  often  wild  and  untamable  ; 
but  these  ill  qualities  Wacht  hoped  to  conquer  by  wise 
training.  The  younger  boy,  Jonathan  by  name,  was 
exactly  the  opposite  of  his  elder  brother  ;  he  was  a  very 
pretty  little  boy,  but  rather  fragile,  his  blue  eyes  laugh- 
ing with  gentleness  and  kind-heartedness.  This  boy 
had  been  adopted  during  his  father's  lifetime  by  Herr 
Theophilus  Eichheimer,  a  worthy  doctor  of  law,  as  well 
as  the  first  and  oldest  advocate  in  the  place.  Noticing 
the  boy's  remarkably  good  parts,  as  well  as  his  most 
decided  bent  for  knowledge,  he  had  taken  him  to  train 
him  for  a  lawyer. 

And  here  one  of  those  unconquerable  prejudices  of 
our  Wacht  came  to  light  which  have  been  already 
spoken  of  above,  namely,  he  was  perfectly  convinced 
in  his  own  mind  that  everything  understood  under  the 
name  of  law  was  nothing  else  but  so  many  phrases 
artificially  hammered  out  and  put  together  by  lawyers, 
with  the  sole  purpose  of  perplexing  the  true  feeling  of 
right  which  had  been  planted  in  every  virtuous  man's 
breast.  Since  he  could  not  exactly  shut  his  eyes  to  the 
necessity  for  law-courts,  he  discharged  all  his  hatred 
upon  the  advocates,  whom  as  a  class  he  conceived  to 
be,  if  not  altogether  miserable  deceivers,  yet  at  any 
rate  such  contemptible  men  that  they  practised  usury 
in  shameful  fashion  with  all  that  was  most  holy  and 
venerable  in  the  world.  It  will  be  seen  presently  how 
Wacht,  who  in  all  other  relations  of  life  was  an  intelli- 
gent and  clear-sighted  man,  resembled  in  this  particular 
the  coarsest-minded  amongst  the  lowest  of  the  people. 
The  further  prejudice  that  he  would  not  admit  there 
was  any  piety  or  virtue  amongst  the  adherents  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  that  he  trusted  no  Cath- 
olic, might  perhaps  be  pardoned  him,  since  he  had  im- 
bibed the  principles  of  a  well-nigh  fanatical  Protestant- 


294 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


ism  in  Augsburg.  It  may  be  conceived,  therefore,  how 
it  cut  Master  Wacht  to  the  heart  to  see  the  son  of  his 
most  faithful  friend  entering  upon  a  career  that  he  so 
bitterly  detested. 

The  will  of  the  deceased,  however,  was  in  his  eyes 
sacred  ;  and  it  was,  moreover,  at  any  rate  certain  that 
Jonathan  with  his  weakly  body  could  not  be  trained  up 
to  any  handicraft  that  made  any  very  large  demand 
upon  physical  strength.  Besides,  when  old  Herr 
Theophilus  Eichheimer  talked  to  the  master  about 
the  divine  gift  of  knowledge,  at  the  same  time  prais- 
ing little  Jonathan  as  a  good  intelligent  boy,  Wacht 
for  the  moment  forgot  the  advocate,  and  law,  and  his 
own  prejudice  as  well.  He  fastened  all  his  hopes 
upon  the  belief  that  Jonathan,  who  bore  his  father's 
virtues  in  his  heart,  would  give  up  his  profession  when 
he  arrived  at  riper  years,  and  was  able  to  perceive  all 
the  disgrace  that  attached  to  it. 

Though  Jonathan  was  a  good,  quiet  boy,  fond  of 
studying  in-doors,  Sebastian  was  all  the  oftener  and  all 
the  deeper  engaged  in  all  kinds  of  wild  foolish  pranks. 
But  since  in  respect  to  his  handiwork  he  followed  in 
his  father's  footsteps,  and  no  fault  could  ever  be  found 
with  his  industry  or  with  the  neatness  of  his  work, 
Master  Wacht  ascribed  his  at  times  too  outrageous 
tricks  to  the  unrefined  untamed  fire  of  youth,  and  he 
forgave  the  young  fellow,  observing  that  he  would  be 
sure  to  sow  his  wild  oats  when  on  his  travels. 

These  travels  Sebastian  soon  set  out  upon ;  and 
Master  Wacht  heard  nothing  more  from  him  until  Se- 
bastian, on  attaining  his  majority,  wrote  from  Vienna, 
begging  for  his  little  patrimonial  inheritance,  which 
Master  Wacht  sent  to  him  correct  to  the  last  farthing, 
receiving  in  return  a  receipt  for  it  drawn  up  by  one  of 
the  Vienna  courts. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


295 


Just  the  same  sort  of  difference  m  character  as 
distinguished  the  Engelbrechts  was  noticeable  also 
between  Wacht's  two  daughters,  of  whom  the  elder  was 
called  Rettel 1  and  the  younger  Nanni. 

It  may  here  be  hastily  remarked  in  passing,  that, 
according  to  the  taste  generally  prevalent  in  Bamberg, 
the  Christian  name  Nanni  is  the  prettiest  and  finest  a 
girl  can  well  have.  And  so,  kindly  reader,  if  you  ever 
ask  a  pretty  child  in  Bamberg,  "What  is  your  name, 
my  little  angel  ? "  the  little  thing  will  be  sure  to  cast 
down  her  eyes  in  shy  confusion  and  tug  at  her  black 
silk  apron,  and  whisper  in  friendly  fashion  with  a 
slight  blush  upon  her  cheeks,  " 'N  !  'N  !  Nanni,  y'r 
honour." 

Rettel,  Wacht's  elder  daughter,  was  a  fat  little  thing, 
with  red  rosy  cheeks  and  right  friendly  black  eyes, 
with  which  she  looked  boldly  into  the  face  of  the 
sunshine  of  life,  as  it  had  dawned  upon  her,  without 
blinking.  In  respect  of  her  education  and  her  char- 
acter she  had  not  risen  a  hair's  breadth  above  the  sphere 
of  the  handicraftsman.  She  gossiped  with  her  female 
relatives  and  friends,  and  liked  dressing  herself,  though 
in  gay  colours  and  without  taste ;  but  her  own  peculiar 
element,  wherein  she  "lived  and  moved,  and  had  her 
being,"  was  the  kitchen.  Nobody's  hare-ragout  and 
geese  giblets,  not  even  those  of  the  most  experienced 
cook  far  and  near,  ever  turned  out  so  tasty  as  hers ; 
in  the  preparation  of  sauces  she  was  a  perfect  adept  ; 
vegetables,  such  as  savoy  and  cauliflower,  were  dressed 
by  Rettel's  cunning  hand  in  a  way  that  could  not  be 
beaten,  since  she  knew  in  a  moment  through  a  subtle 
unfailing  instinct  when  there  was  too  much  or  too 
little  dripping  ;  and  her  short  cakes  put  in  the  shade 


1  Rettel  and  Rettelchen  (little  Rettel)  are  pet  names  for  Margaret. 


296 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


the  most  successful  productions  of  a  similar  kind  at 
the  most  sumptuous  of  church  feasts.1 

Father  Wacht  was  very  well  satisfied  with  his  daugh- 
ter's cooking  ;  and  he  once  hazarded  the  opinion  that 
the  Prince-bishop  could  not  have  more  delicious  ver- 
micelli noodles  2  on  his  table  than  those  which  Rettel 
made.  This  remark  sank  so  deeply  into  the  good  girl's 
pleased  heart,  that  she  was  preparing  to  send  a  huge 
dish  of  the  said  vermicelli  noodles  up  to  the  Prince- 
bishop,  and  that  too  on  a  fast  day.  Fortunately  Master 
Wacht  got  scent  of  the  plan  in  time,  and  amidst  hearty 
laughter  prevented  the  bold  idea  from  being  put  into 
execution. 

Not  only  was  stout  little  Rettel  a  clever  housekeeper, 
a  perfect  cook,  and  at  the  same  time  a  pattern  of 
good  nature  and  childish  affection  and  fidelity,  but 
like  a  well-trained  child  she  also  loved  her  father  very 
tenderly. 

Now  characters  of  Wacht's  class,  in  spite  of  their 
earnestness,  often  display  a  certain  ironical  waggish- 
ness  which  comes  into  play  on  easy  provocation,  and 
lends  an  agreeable  charm  to  life,  just  as  the  deep  brook 
greets  with  its  silver  curling  waves  the  light  breeze  that 
skims  its  surface. 

It  could  not  fail  but  that  good  Rettel's  ways  and 
doings  frequently  provoked  this  sly  humour;  and  so 
the  relations  between  Wacht  and  his  daughter  were 
invested  with  a  curiously  modified  charm  of  colour. 
The  indulgent  reader  will  come  across  instances  later 
on  ;  for  the  present  it  may  suffice  to  mention  one  such 

1  The  anniversary  of  the  consecration  of  the  church  is  made  the 
occasion  of  a  great  and  general  festive  holiday  in  many  parts  of  Ger- 
many, particularly  in  the  south. 

2  "Noodles"  are  long  strips  of  rolled-out  paste,  made  up  and 
cocked  in  various  ways. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


297 


here,  which  certainly  deserves  to  be  called  entertaining. 
In  Master  Wacht's  house  there  was  a  quiet>  good- 
looking  young  man,  who  held  a  post  in  the  Prince's 
exchequer  office  and  drew  a  very  good  income.  In 
straightforward  German  fashion  he  sued  the  father  for 
the  hand  of  his  elder  daughter,  and  Master  Wacht,  if 
he  would  not  do  an  injustice  to  the  young  man  as 
well  as  to  his  Rettel,  could  not  help  but  grant  him 
permission  to  visit  the  house,  that  he  might  have 
opportunities  to  try  and  win  the  girl's  affections. 
Rettel,  informed  of  the  man's  purpose,  received  him 
with  very  friendly  looks,  in  which  might  be  read  at 
times,  "At  our  wedding,  dear,  I  shall  bake  the  cake 
myself." 

Master  Wacht,  however,  was  not  altogether  well 
pleased  with  his  daughter's  growing  liking  for  the 
Herr  Administrator  of  the  Prince's  revenues,  since  the 
Herr  Administrator  himself  didn't  seem  to  him  to  be 
all  that  he  should  be.  In  the  first  place,  the  man  was 
as  a  matter  of  course  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  in  the 
second  place  Wacht  thought  he  perceived  in  him  on 
nearer  acquaintance  a  certain  sneaking  dissimulation 
of  manner,  which  pointed  to  a  mind  ill  at  ease.  He 
would  willingly  have  got  the  undesirable  suitor  out 
of  the  house  again  if  he  could  have  done  so  without 
hurting  Rettel's  feelings.  Master  Wacht  observed  him 
closely,  and  knew  how  to  make  shrewd  and  cunning 
use  of  his  observations.  He  perceived  that  the  Herr 
Administrator  did  not  set  much  store  by  well-cooked 
dishes,  but  swallowed  down  everything  in  the  same  in- 
discriminate fashion,  and  that,  moreover,  in  a  disagree- 
ably repulsive  way.  One  Sunday,  when  the  Herr 
Administrator  was  dining  at  Master  Wacht's,  as  he 
usually  did  on  that  day,  the  latter  began  to  heap  up 
praises  and  commendations  upon  every  dish  which 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


busy  Rettel  caused  to  be  served  up  ;  and  not  only  did 
he  call  upon  the  Herr  Administrator  to  join  him  in 
his  encomiums,  but  he  also  asked  him  pointedly  what 
he  thought  of  various  ways  of  dressing  dishes.  The 
Herr  Administrator  replied  somewhat  dryly  that  he 
was  a  temperate  and  abstemious  man,  accustomed 
from  his  youth  up  to  the  greatest  frugality.  At  noon, 
for  dinner,  he  was  satisfied  with  a  spoonful  or  two  of 
soup  and  a  little  piece  of  beef,  but  the  latter  must  be 
cooked  hard,  since  so  cooked  a  smaller  quantity  sufficed 
to  satisfy  the  hunger,  and  there  was  no  need  to  over- 
load the  stomach  with  large  pieces.  For  his  evening 
meal  he  generally  managed  upon  a  saucer  of  good  egg 
and  butter  beaten  up  together  and  a  very  small  glass 
of  liquor  ;  moreover,  the  only  other  refreshment  he 
allowed  himself  was  a  glass  of  extra  beer  at  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  taken  if  possible  in  the  good  fresh  air. 
It  may  be  imagined  what  looks  Rettelchen  fixed  upon 
the  unfortunate  administrator.  And  yet  the  worst 
was  still  to  come.  Bavarian  puffy  noodles  were  next 
served,  and  they  were  swollen  up  to  such  a  big,  big 
size  that  they  seemed  to  be  the  masterpiece  of  the 
table.  The  frugal  Herr  Administrator  took  his  knife 
and  with  the  most  cool-blooded  indifference  cut  the 
noodle  which  was  passed  to  him  into  many  pieces. 
Rettel  rushed  out  of  the  room  with  a  loud  cry  of 
despair. 

I  must  inform  the  reader  who  does  not  know  the 
secret  of  eating  Bavarian  puffy  noodles  that  when 
eaten  they  must  be  cleverly  pulled  to  pieces,  since 
wThen  cut  they  lose  all  taste  and  bring  disgrace  upon 
the  professional  pride  of  the  cook  who  made  them. 

From  that  moment  Rettel  looked  upon  the  frugal 
Herr  Administrator  as  the  most  abominable  man 
under  the  face  of  the  sun.    Master  Wacht  did  not 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


299 


contradict  her  in  any  way  ;  and  so  the  reckless  icon- 
oclast in  the  province  of  cookery  lost  his  bride  for 
ever. 

Though  the  chequered  figure  of  little  Rettel  has 
cost  almost  too  many  words,  yet  a  very  few  strokes 
will  suffice  to  put  clearly  before  my  reader's  eyes  the 
face,  figure,  and  character  of  pretty,  graceful  Nanni. 

It  is  only  in  South  Germany,  particularly  in  Fran- 
conia,  and  almost  exclusively  in  the  burgher  classes, 
that  you  can  meet  with  such  elegant  and  delicate 
figures,  such  good  and  pleasing  angelic  little  faces, 
where  there  is  a  sweet  heavenly  yearning  in  the  blue 
eyes  and  a  divine  smile  upon  the  rosy  lips,  as  Nanni's  ; 
from  them  we  at  once  see  that  the  old  painters  had 
not  far  to  seek  the  originals  of  their  Madonnas.  Of 
exactly  the  same  type  in  figure,  face,  and  character 
was  the  Erlangen  maiden  whom  Master  Wacht  had 
married  ;  and  Nanni  was  a  most  faithful  copy  of  her 
mother.  With  respect  to  her  genuine  tender  woman- 
liness and  with  respect  to  that  beneficial  culture  which 
is  nothing  but  true  tact  under  all  conditions  of  life, 
her  mother  was  the  exact  counterpart  of  what  Master 
Wacht  was  with  respect  to  his  distinguishing  qualities 
as  man.  Perhaps  the  daughter  was  less  serious  and 
firm  than  her  mother,  but  on  the  other  hand  she  was 
the  perfection  of  maidenly  sweetness  ;  and  the  only 
fault  that  could  be  found  with  her  was  that  her 
womanly  tenderness  of  feeling  and  a  sensitiveness 
which,  as  a  consequence  of  her  weakened  organisa- 
tion, wras  easily  provoked  to  a  tearful  and  unhealthy 
degree,  made  her  too  delicate  and  fragile  for  the 
realities  of  life. 

Master  Wacht  could  not  look  at  the  dear  child 
without  emotion,  and  he  loved  her  in  a  way  that  is 
seldom  found  in  the  case  of  strong  characters  like 


3  00 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


his.  It  is  possible  that  he  may  have  always  spoiled 
her  a  little  ;  and  it  will  soon  be  shown  in  what  way 
her  tenderness  so  often  received  that  special  material 
and  encouragement  which  made  it  often  degenerate 
into  sickly  sentimentality. 

Nanni  loved  to  dress  with  extreme  simplicity,  but 
in  the  finest  stuffs  and  according  to  cuts  which  rose 
above  the  limits  of  her  station  in  life.  Wacht,  how- 
ever, let  her  do  as  she  liked,  since  when  dressed  accord- 
ing to  her  own  taste  the  dear  child  looked  so  very 
pretty  and  engaging. 

I  must  now  hasten  to  destroy  an  idea  which  perhaps 
might  arise  in  the  mind  of  any  reader  who  should 
happen  to  have  been  in  Bamberg  several  years  ago, 
and  so  would  call  to  mind  the  hideous  and  tasteless 
head-dress  with  which  at  that  time  even  the  prettiest 
maidens  were  wont  to  disfigure  their  faces — the  flat 
hood  fitting  close  to  the  head  and  not  allowing  the 
smallest  little  lock  of  hair  to  be  seen,  a  black  and  not 
over-broad  ribbon  crossing  close  over  the  forehead,  and 
meeting  behind  low  down  on  the  neck  in  an  outra- 
geously ugly  bow.  This  ribbon  afterwards  continued 
to  increase  in  width  until  it  reached  the  preposterous 
breadth  of  nearly  half  an  ell  ;  hence  it  had  to  be 
specially  ordered  in  the  manufactory  and  strengthened 
inside  with  stiff  card-board,  so  that  it  projected  above 
the  head  like  a  steeple-hat ;  just  above  the  hollow  of 
the  neck  they  wore  a  bow,  which  owing  to  its  breadth 
stuck  out  far  beyond  the  shoulders,  and  resembled  the 
outspread  wings  of  an  eagle  ;  and  along  the  temples 
and  about  the  ears  tiny  curls  crept  out  from  beneath 
the  hood.  And  strange  to  say,  many  a  fine  Bamberg 
beauty  looked  quite  charming  in  this  head-covering. 

It  formed  a  very  picturesque  sight  to  stand  behind 
a  funeral  procession  and  wTatch  it  set  itself  in  motion. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


301 


It  is  the  custom  in  Bamberg  for  the  burghers  to  be 
invited  to  attend  the  funeral  procession  of  a  deceased 
person  by  the  so-called  "  death-woman,"  who  in  a 
croaking  voice  and  in  the  name  of  the  deceased  screams 
out  her  invitation  in  the  street,  in  front  of  the  house 
of  the  persons  she  is  inviting  ;  as,  for  instance,  "  Herr 
so-and-so,  or  Frau  so-and-so,  beg  you  to  pay  them  the 
last  honours."  The  good  gossips  and  the  young 
maidens,  who  in  general  seldom  get  out  into  the  open 
air,  fail  not  to  put  in  an  appearance  in  great  numbers  ; 
and  when  the  troop  of  women  sets  itself  in  motion  and 
the  wind  catches  the  immense  ends  of  the  bows,  it  can 
be  likened  to  nothing  else  but  a  huge  flock  of  black 
ravens  or  eagles  suddenly  startled  and  just  beginning 
their  rustling  flight. 

The  indulgent  reader  is  therefore  requested  not  to 
picture  pretty  Nanni  in  any  other  head-dress  except  a 
neat  little  Erlangen  hood. 

However  objectionable  it  was  to  Master  Wacht  that 
Jonathan  was  to  belong  to  a  class  which  he  hated,  he 
did  not  by  any  means  make  the  boy,  or  later  the  youth, 
feel  the  consequences  of  his  displeasure.  Rather  he 
was  always  very  pleased  to  see  the  good  quiet  Jonathan 
look  in  after  his  day's  work  was  done,  to  spend  the 
evening  with  his  daughters  and  old  Barbara.  But  then 
Jonathan  also  wrote  the  finest  hand  that  could  be  seen 
anywhere  ;  and  it  afforded  Master  Wacht  no  little  joy, 
for  he  was  uncommonly  fond  of  good  handwriting, 
when  his  Nanni,  whose  writing-master  Jonathan  had 
installed  himself  to  be,  began  gradually  after  a  time  to 
write  the  same  elegant  hand  as  her  master. 

In  the  evening  Master  Wacht  himself  was  either  busy 
in  his  own  work-room,  or,  as  was  often  the  case,  he 
visited  a  beer-house,  where  he  met  with  his  fellow7- 
craftsmen  and  the  gentlemen  of  the  council,  and  in  his 


302 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT, 


way  enlivened  the  company  with  his  own  rare  wit. 
Meanwhile  in  the  house  at  home  Barbara  busily  kept 
her  distaff  on  the  whirl  and  whizz,  whilst  Rettel  bal- 
anced the  house-keeping  accounts,  or  thought  out  the 
preparation  of  new  and  hitherto  unheard-of  dishes,  or 
related  again  to  the  old  woman,  mingled  with  a  good 
deal  of  loud  laughter,  what  she  had  learned  in  confi- 
dence from  her  various  gossips  in  the  town. 

And  the  youth  Jonathan  ?  He  sat  at  the  table  with 
Nanni ;  and  she  also  wrote  and  drew,  of  course  under 
his  guidance.  And  yet  to  sit  writing  and  drawing  the 
whole  evening  through  is  a  downright  tiring  piece  of 
business  ;  hence  it  was  no  unfrequent  occurrence  for 
Jonathan  to  draw  some  neatly-bound  book  out  of  his 
pocket  and  read  it  to  pretty,  sensitive  Nanni  in  a  low 
softly-whispering  tone. 

Through  old  Eichheimer's  influence  Jonathan  had 
won  the  patronage  of  the  minor  canon,  who  designated 
Master  Wacht  a  real  Verrina.  The  canon,  Count  von 
Kcsel,  a  man  of  genius,  lived  and  revelled  in  Goethe's 
and  Schiller's  works,  which  were  just  at  that  time  be- 
ginning to  rise  like  bright  streaming  meteors,  over- 
topping all  others,  above  the  horizon  of  the  literary 
sky.  He  thought,  and  rightly,  that  he  discerned  a  sim- 
ilar tendency  in  his  attorney's  young  clerk,  and  took  a 
special  delight  not  only  in  lending  him  the  works  in 
question,  but  in  reading  them  in  common  with  him,  and 
so  helping  him  to  thoroughly  digest  them. 

But  Jonathan  Avon  his  way  to  the  Count's  heart  in  an 
especial  way,  because  he  expressed  a  very  favourable 
opinion  of  the  verses  which  the  Count  patched  together 
out  of  high-sounding  phrases  in  the  sweat  of  his  own 
brow,  and  because  he  was,  to  the  Count's  unspeakable 
satisfaction,  edified  and  touched  by  them  to  the  proper 
pitch.    Nevertheless  it  is  a  fact  that  Jonathan's  taste 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


in  aesthetic  matters  was  really  greatly  improved  by  his 
intercourse  with  the  intellectual,  though  somewhat 
euphuistic,  Count. 

My  kind  reader  now  knows  what  class  of  books  Jon- 
athan used  to  take  out  of  his  pocket  and  read  to  pretty 
Nanni,  and  can  form  a  just  conception  of  the  way  in 
which  this  kind  of  writings  would  inevitably  excite  a 
girl  mentally  organised  as  Nanni  was.  "  O  star  of  the 
gloaming  eve  !  "  Would  not  Nanni's  tears  flow  when 
her  attractive  writing-master  began  in  this  low  and  sol- 
emn fashion  ? 

It  is  a  fact  of  common  experience  that  young  people 
who  are  in  the  habit  of  singing  tender  love-duets 
together  very  easily  put  themselves  in  the  places  of  the 
fictitious  characters  of  the  song,  and  come  to  look  upon 
the  duets  in  question  as  giving  both  the  melody  and  the 
text  for  the  whole  of  life  ;  so  also  the  youth  who  reads 
a  love  romance  to  a  maiden  very  readily  becomes  the 
hero  of  the  story,  whilst  the  girl  dreams  herself  into  the 
role  of  the  heroine.  In  the  case  of  such  fitly  adapted 
spirits  as  Jonathan  and  Nanni  such  incitement  as  this 
even  was  not  required  to  provoke  them  to  love  each 
other.  They  were  one  heart  and  one  soul  ;  the  maiden 
and  the  youth  were,  so  to  speak,  but  one  brightly  burn- 
ing flame  of  love,  pure  and  inextinguishable.  Of  his 
daughter's  tender  passion  Father  Wacht  had  not  the 
slighest  inkling  ;  but  he  was  soon  to  learn  all. 

Through  unwearied  industry  and  genuine  talent  Jon- 
athan succeeded  in  a  brief  space  of  time  in  completing 
his  legal  studies  and  qualifying  for  admission  to  the 
grade  of  advocate  ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  his  admis- 
sion soon  followed.  He  intended  one  Sunday  to  sur- 
prise Master  Wacht  with  this  glad  news,  which  estab- 
lished him  upon  a  secure  footing  for  life.  But  imagine 
how  he  trembled  with  dismay  when  Wacht  bent  his 


3°4 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


eyes  upon  him,  blazing  with  anger  ;  he  had  never  seen 
him  look  so  passionately  wrathful.  "  What !  "  cried 
Wacht,  in  a  tone  that  made  the  wails  ring  again,  "  what ! 
you  miserable  good-for-nothing  fellow  !  Nature  has 
neglected  your  body,  but  richly  endowed  you  with 
splendid  intellectual  gifts,  and  these  you  are  intending 
to  abuse  in  a  shameless  way,  like  a  bad  crafty  knave, 
and  so  putting  your  knife  at  your  own  mother's  throat  ? 
You  mean  to  say  you  are  going  to  traffic  in  justice  as 
in  some  cheap  paltry  ware  in  the  public  market,  and 
weigh  it  out  with  false  scales  to  the  poor  peasants  and 
the  oppressed  burgher,  who  in  vain  utter  their  plaintive 
cries  before  the  soft-cushioned  seat  of  the  inexorable 
judge,  and  going  to  get  yourself  paid  with  blood-stained 
pence  which  the  poor  man  hands  to  you  whilst  bathed 
in  tears  ?  Will  you  fill  your  brains  with  lying  laws  of 
man's  contriving,  and  practise  knavish  tricks  and 
schemes,  and  make  a  lucrative  business  of  it  to  fatten 
yourself  upon  ?  Is  all  your  father's  virtue,  tell  me, 
vanished  from  your  heart  ?  Your  father — your  name 
is  Engelbrecht — no  !  when  I  hear  you  called  so  I  will 
not  believe  that  it  is  the  name  of  my  comrade,  who  was 
a  pattern  of  virtue  and  honesty,  but  I  must  believe  that 
it  is  Satan,  who  in  the  apish  mockery  of  Hell  is  shout- 
ing the  name  across  his  grave,  and  so  beguiling  men  to 
take  the  young  lying  lawyer's  cub  for  the  real  son  of 
that  excellent  carpenter  Gottfried  Engelbrecht.  Be- 
gone !  you  are  no  longer  my  foster-son  !  You  are  a 
serpent  whom  I  will  pluck  from  my  bosom,  whom  I 

will  disown  "  

At  this  point  Nanni  rushed  in  and  threw  herself  at 
Master  Wacht's  feet  with  a  piercing  heart-rending  cry 
of  distress.  "  Father  !  "  she  cried,  completely  overcome 
by  her  incontrollable  anguish  and  unbridled  despair, 
"father,  if  you  disown  him,  you  will  disown  me  also — 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT.  305 

me,  your  own  favourite  daughter ;  -he  is  mine,  my 
Jonathan  ;  I  can  never,  never  part  with  him  in  this 
world." 

The  poor  child  fell  down  in  a  swoon  and  struck  her 
head  against  the  closet-door,  so  that  the  drops  of  blood 
trickled  down  her  delicate  white  forehead.  Barbara 
and  Rettel  ran  in  and  carried  the  insensible  girl  to  the 
sofa.  Jonathan  stood  like  a  statue,  as  if  thunderstruck, 
incapable  of  the  slightest  movement.  It  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  describe  the  inner  emotions  which  revealed 
themselves  on  Wacht's  countenance.  His  face,  instead 
of  being  flushed  with  the  redness  of  anger,  was  now 
pale  as  a  corpse's  ;  there  only  remained  a  dark  fire 
gleaming  in  his  fixed  set  eyes  ;  the  cold  perspiration  of 
death  appeared  to  be  standing  on  his  forehead.  After 
gazing  unchangeably  before  him  for  some  minutes 
without  speaking,  he  relieved  his  labouring  breast  by 
saying  in  a  significant  tone,  "  So  that  was  it  ! "  then  he 
strode  slowly  towards  the  door,  where  he  again  stood 
still,  and  turning  half  round  towards  the  women,  cried, 
"  Dont'  spare  eau  de  Cologne,  and  this  foolery  will  soon 
be  over." 

Shortly  afterwards  the  Master  was  seen  to  leave  the 
house  at  a  quick  pace  and  bend  his  steps  towards  the 
hills.  It  may  be  conceived  in  what  great  trouble  and 
distress  the  family  was  plunged.  Rettel  and  Barbara 
could  not  for  the  life  of  them  imagine  what  terrible 
thing  had  happened  ;  but  when  the  Master  did  not 
return  to  dinner,  but  stayed  out  till  late  at  night — a 
thing  he  had  never  done  before — they  were  greatly 
agitated  with  anxiety  and  fear.  At  length  they  heard 
him  coming,  heard  him  open  the  street-door,  bang  it 
violently  to,  ascend  the  stairs  with  strong  firm  footsteps, 
and  lock  himself  in  his  own  chamber. 

Poor  Nanni  soon  recovered  herself  again  and  wept 
Vol.  IL — 20 


3°6 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


quietly  to  herself.  But  Jonathan  did  not  stop  short  of 
wild  outbreaks  of  inconsolable  despair,  and  several 
times  spoke  of  shooting  himself.  It  is  a  fortunate 
thing  that  pistols  are  articles  which  do  not  necessarily 
belong  to  the  furniture  of  sentimental  young  lawyers  ; 
or  at  least,  if  they  are  to  be  found  amongst  their  effects, 
they  generally  have  no  lock  or  else  won't  go  off. 

After  he  had  run  through  certain  streets  like  a  mad- 
man, Jonathan's  course  led  him  instinctively  to  his 
noble  patron,  to  whom  he  lamented  all  his  unheard-of 
misery  in  outbreaks  of  the  most  violent  passion.  It  need 
hardly  be  added,  it  is  so  self-evident  a  thing,  that  the 
young  love-smitten  advocate  was,  according  to  his  own 
desperate  assertions,  the  first  and  only  individual  in  all 
the  wide  world  whom  such  a  terrible  fate  had  befallen, 
wherefore  he  reproached  destiny  and  all  the  powers  of 
enmity  as  having  conspired  together  against  him. 

The  canon  listened  to  him  calmly  and  with  a  certain 
share  of  interest ;  but  nevertheless  he  did  not  appear 
to  appreciate  the  full  extent  of  the  trouble  which  the 
young  lawyer  imagined  he  felt.  "  My  dear  young 
friend,"  said  the  canon,  taking  the  advocate  by  the 
hand  in  a  friendly  way,  and  leading  him  to  a  seat, 
"  my  dear  young  friend,  hitherto  I  have  looked  upon 
our  carpenter  Herr  Johannes  Wacht  as  a  great  man 
in  his  way,  but  I  now  perceive  that  he  is  also  a  very 
great  fool.  Great  fools  are  like  jibbing  horses  ;  it's 
hard  to  make  them  move  ;  but  once  they  have  been 
got  to  move,  they  trot  merrily  along  the  way  they  are 
wanted  to  go.  In  spite  of  the  old  man's  senseless  anger 
you  ought  not  by  any  means  to  give  up  your  beautiful 
Nanni  in  consequence  of  the  unpleasant  scene  of  to- 
day. But  before  proceeding  to  talk  further  about  your 
love-affair,  which  is  indeed  very  charming  and  romantic, 
let  us  turn  to  and  discuss  a  little  breakfast.    It  was 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


307 


noon  when  you  went  to  old  Wacht,  and  I  don't  dine 
until  four  o'clock  in  Seehof."  1 

A  very  appetising  breakfast  indeed  was  served  up  on 
the  little  table  at  which  they  both  sat — the  canon  and 
the  advocate — Bayonne  hams,  garnished  round  about 
with  slices  of  Portuguese  onions,  a  cold  larded  par- 
tridge of  the  red  kind  and  a  foreigner  to  boot,  truffles 
cooked  in  red  wine,  a  dish  of  Strasburg  pate's  de  foie  gras, 
finally  a  plate  of  genuine  Strachino2  and  another  with 
butter,  as  yellow  and  shining  as  lilies  of  the  valley. 

The  indulgent  reader  who  loves  such  dainty  butter, 
and  ever  goes  to  Bamberg,  will  be  pleased  at  getting 
there  the  finest  and  best,  but  will  also  at  the  same  time 
be  annoyed  when  he  learns  that  the  inhabitants,  from 
mistaken  notions  of  housekeeping,  melt  it  down  to  a 
grease,  which  generally  tastes  rancid  and  spoils  all  the 
food. 

Besides,  good  dry  champagne  was  sending  up  its 
pearly  sparkles  in  a  beautifully-cut  crystal  decanter. 
The  canon  had  not  unloosed  the  napkin  from  his  neck, 
but  had  let  it  stay  where  it  was  when  he  had  received 
the  young  lawyer  ;  and,  after  the  footman  had  quickly 
supplied  a  second  cover,  he  proceeded  to  place  the 
choicest  morsels  before  the  despairing  lover  and  to  pour 
out  wine  for  him  ;  and  then  he  set  to  work  heartily 
himself.  Some  one  once  had  the  hardihood  to  main- 
tain that  the  stomach  is  equivalent  to  all  the  other 
physical  and  intellectual  parts  of  man  put  together. 
That  is  a  profane  and  abominable  doctrine  ;  but  this 
much  is  certain,  that  the  stomach  is  like  a  despotic  ty- 

1  Seehof  or  Marquardsburg,  situated  to  the  north-east  of  Bamberg, 
was  formerly  a  bishop's  castle,  and  was  rebuilt  by  Marquard  Sebastian 
Schenk  of  Stauffenberg  in  1688. 

2  Stracchino,  a  kind  of  cheese  made  in  North  Italy,  especially  in 
Brescia,  Milan,  and  Bergamo. 


3o8 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


rant  or  ironical  mystifier,  and  often  carries  through  its 
own  will.  And  this  was  the  case  in  the  present  instance. 
For  instinctively,  without  being  clearly  conscious  of 
what  he  was  about,  the  young  lawyer  had  in  a  few  min- 
utes devoured  a  huge  piece  of  Bayonne  ham,  created 
terrible  devastation  amongst  the  Portuguese  garniture, 
put  out  of  sight  half  a  partridge,  no  inconsiderable  quan- 
tity of  truffles,  and  also  more  Strasburg  pates  than  was 
exactly  becoming  in  a  young  advocate  full  of  trouble. 
Moreover,  they  both  relished  the  champagne  so  much 
that  the  footman  soon  had  to  fill  up  the  crystal  decanter 
a  second  time. 

The  advocate  felt  a  pleasant  and  beneficial  degree  of 
warmth  penetrate  his  vitals,  and  all  he  experienced 
of  his  trouble  was  a  singular  sort  of  shiver,  which  ex- 
actly resembled  electric  shocks,  causing  pain  but  do- 
ing good.  He  proved  himself  susceptible  to  the  con- 
solations of  his  patron,  who,  after  comfortably  sipping 
up  his  last  glass  of  wine  and  elegantly  wiping  his  mouth, 
settled  himself  into  position  and  began  as  follows  : — 

"  In  the  first  place,  my  dear  good  friend,  you  must 
not  be  so  foolish  as  to  imagine  that  you  are  the  only 
man  on  earth  to  whom  a  father  has  refused  the  hand 
of  his  daughter.  But  that 's  nothing  to  do  with  the  pres- 
ent case.  As  I  have  already  told  you,  the  old  fool's 
reason  for  hating  you  is  so  preposterously  absurd  that 
it  cannot  last  long  ;  and  whether  it  appear  to  you  at 
this  moment  nonsensical  or  not,  I  can  hardly  bear  the 
thought  of  all  ending  in  a  tame  commonplace  wedding, 
so  that  the  whole  thing  may  be  summed  up  in  the  few 
words, — Peter  has  wooed  Grete,1  and  Peter  and  Grete 
are  man  and  wife. 

1  A  pet  name  for  Gretchen  (Margaret),  frequently  used  also  as  equiv- 
alent to  "sweetheart,"  "lass,"  just  as  we  might  say,  "Every Johnny 
has  his  Jeannie. " 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT.  309 

"  The  situation  is,  however,  so  far  new  and  grand  in 
that  it  is  merely  hatred  against  a  class  to  which  the  be- 
loved foster-son  belongs  that  can  furnish  the  sole  lever 
for  setting  a  new  and  special  tragic  development  in  mo- 
tion ;  but  to  the  real  matter  at  issue  !  You  are  a  poet, 
my  friend,  and  that  alters  everything.  Your  love,  your 
trouble,  ought  to  appear  in  your  eyes  as  something 
magnificent,  in  the  full  splendours  of  the  sacred  art  of 
poesy.  You  will  hear  the  strains  of  the  lyre  struck  by 
the  muse  who  is  nearest  akin  to  you,  and  in  the  divine 
gush  of  inspiration  you  will  receive  the  winged  words 
in  which  to  express  your  love  and  your  unhappiness. 
As  a  poet  you  might  be  called  at  this  moment  the 
happiest  man  on  the  earth,  since,  your  heart  having 
been  really  wounded  as  deep  as  it  can  be  wounded, 
your  heart's  blood  is  now  gushing  out.  You  require, 
therefore,  no  artifical  incitement  to  allure  you  to  a  po- 
etic mood  ;  and  mark  my  words,  this  period  of  trouble 
will  enable  you  to  produce  something  great  and  ad- 
mirable. 

"  I  must  draw  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  these 
first  moments  of  your  unhappiness  there  will  be  min- 
gled with  it  a  peculiar  and  very  unpleasant  feeling 
which  cannot  be  woven  into  any  poetry  ;  but  it  is  a 
feeling  which  soon  vanishes  away.  Let  me  make  you 
understand.  For  example,  after  the  unfortunate  lover 
has  had  a  good  sound  drubbing  from  the  enraged  fa- 
ther, and  has  been  kicked  out  of  the  house,  and  the 
outraged  mamma  has  locked  the  young  lady  in  her 
chamber,  and  repelled  the  attempted  storming  on  the 
part  of  the  desperate  lover  by  the  armed  domestics  of 
the  house,  and  when  plebeian  fists  have  even  enter- 
tained no  shyness  of  the  very  finest  cloth  "  (here  the 
canon  sighed  somewhat),  "then  this  fermented  prose  of 
miserable  vulgarity  must  evaporate  in  order  that  the 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


pure  poetic  unhappiness  of  love  may  settle  as  sediment. 
You  have  been  fearfully  scolded,  my  dear  young  friend, 
this  was  the  bitter  prose  that  had  to  be  surmounted  ; 
you  have  surmounted  it,  and  so  now  give  yourself  up 
entirely  to  poetry.  Here — here  are  Petrarch's  Sonnets 
and  Ovid's  Elegies ;  take  them,  read  them,  write  your- 
self, and  come  and  read  to  me  what  you  have  written. 
Perhaps  in  the  meantime  I  also  may  experience  a  dis- 
appointment in  love,  of  which  I  am  not  altogether 
deprived  of  hopes,  since  I  shall  in  all  likelihood  fall  in 
love  with  a  stranger  lady  who  has  stopped  at  the 
'White  Lamb'  in  the  Steinweg,1  and  whom  Count 
Nesselstädt  maintains  to  be  a  paragon  of  beauty  and 
grace,  albeit  he  has  only  caught  a  fugitive  glimpse  of 
her  at  the  window.  Then,  my  friend,  like  the  Dios- 
curi, we  will  travel  the  same  bright  path  of  poetry  and 
disappointed  love.  Note,  my  good  fellow,  what  a  great 
advantage  my  station  in  life  gives  me,  for  every  affec- 
tion which  I  conceive,  being  a  longing  and  hoping 
which  can  never  be  gratified,  rises  to  tragic  intensity. 
But  now,  my  friend,  out,  out,  away  into  the  woods  as 
you  ought  to." 

It  would  doubtless  be  very  wearisome  to  my  kind 
reader,  if  not  unbearable,  were  I  to  describe  here  at 
length,  in  detail  and  with  all  sorts  of  over-choice  and 
exquisite  words  and  phrases,  all  that  Jonathan  and 
Nanni  did  in  their  trouble.  Such  things  may  be  found 
in  any  indifferent  romance  ;  and  it  is  often  amusing 
enough  to  see  into  what  postures  the  struggling  author 
throws  himself,  merely  in  order  to  appear  original. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  to  be  of  great  importance 
to  follow  Master  Wacht  on  his  walks,  or  rather  in  his 
mental  journeyings. 


A  long  winding  suburb  of  Bamberg. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


It  must  appear  very  remarkable  that  a  man  of  such 
strong  self-reliant  spirit  as  Master  Wacht,  who  had 
borne  with  unshaken  courage  and  unbending  stead- 
fastness the  most  terrible  misfortunes  that  had  befallen 
him,  and  that  would  have  crushed  many  less  stout- 
hearted spirits,  could  be  thus  put  beside  himself  with 
passion  at  an  occurrence  which  any  other  father  of  a 
family  would  have  regarded  as  an  ordinary  event  and 
one  easy  to  remedy,  and  would  in  fact  have  set  about 
remedying  it  in  some  way  or  other,  good  or  bad.  Of 
course  the  indulgent  reader  is  well  aware  that  this  be- 
haviour of  Wacht's  must  be  traced  to  some  good  psy- 
chological reason.  The  thought  that  poor  Nanni's  love 
for  innocent  Jonathan  was  a  misfortune  which  would 
exercise  a  pernicious  influence  upon  the  whole  course 
of  his  subsequent  life  was  only  due  to  the  perverse  dis- 
cord in  Wacht's  soul.  But  the  very  fact  that  this  discord 
was  able  to  go  on  making  itself  heard  in  the  otherwise 
harmonical  character  of  this  thoroughly  noble  man,  em- 
braced the  impossibility  of  smothering  it  or  reducing  it 
completely  to  silence. 

Wacht  had  made  his  acquaintance  with  the  feminine 
character  in  one  who  possessed  it  in  a  simple  but  also 
at  the  same  time  grand  and  noble  form.  His  own  wife 
had  enabled  him  to  see  into  the  depths  of  the  real 
woman's  nature,  as  in  a  bright  mirror-like  lake.  He 
saw  in  her  the  true  heroine  who  fought  with  weapons 
that  were  constantly  unconquerable.  His  orphan  wife 
had  forfeited  the  inheritance  of  an  immensely  rich 
aunt,  she  had  forfeited  the  love  of  all  her  relatives,  and 
she  had  opposed  with  unshaken  courage  the  persistent 
efforts  of  the  Church,  which  embittered  her  life  with 
many  a  hard  trial,  when,  though  herself  trained  up  in 
the  Catholic  religion,  she  had  married  the  Protestant 
Wacht,  and  shortly  before  had  gone  over  to  this  faith 


312 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


in  Augsburg,  impelled  thereto  by  the  pure  enthusiasm 
of  conviction.  All  this  now  passed  through  Master 
Wacht's  mind  ;  and  as  he  thought  upon  the  sentiments 
he  had  felt  when  he  led  the  maiden  to  the  altar,  the 
warm  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  Nanni  was  her 
mother  over  again  ;  Wacht  loved  the  child  with  an  in- 
tensity of  affection  that  was  quite  unparalleled,  and 
this  fact  was  of  itself  more  than  enough  to  make  him 
reject  as  abominable,  nay,  as  fiendishly  cruel,  any  at- 
tempt to  separate  the  lovers  that  appeared  in  the 
remotest  degree  to  savour  of  violence.  When,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  reflected  upon  the  whole  course  of 
Jonathan's  previous  life,  he  was  obliged  to  admit  that 
all  the  virtues  of  a  good,  industrious,  and  modest  youth 
could  not  easily  be  so  happily  united  in  another  as  they 
were  in  Jonathan,  albeit  his  handsome  expressive  face 
bore  the  impress  of  traits  which  were  perhaps  a  little 
too  soft,  and  almost  effeminate,  and  his  diminutive  and 
weak  but  elegant  bodily  frame  bespoke  a  tender  in- 
tellectual spirit.  When  he  reflected  further  that  the 
two  children  had  always  been  together,  and  how  evi- 
dent had  been  their  mutual  liking  for  each  other,  he 
was  really  puzzled  to  understand  how  it  was  that  he 
had  not  expected  beforehand  what  had  now  really 
happened,  and  so  could  have  taken  precautions  in 
time.    Now  it  was  too  late. 

He  was  urged  on  through  the  hills  by  a  mood  of 
mind  which  set  his  whole  being  in  a  turmoil  of  dis- 
traction ;  such  a  state  as  this  he  had  hitherto  never 
experienced,  and  he  was  inclined  to  take  it  for  a  se- 
duction of  Satan,  since  several  thoughts  arose  in  his 
mind  which  in  the  very  next  minute  he  could  not  help 
regarding  as  diabolical.  He  could  not  recover  his  self- 
composure,  still  less  form  any  decisive  plan  of  action. 
The  sun  was  beginning  to  set  when  he  reached  the 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


313 


village  of  Buch  ; 1  turning  into  the  hotel,  he  ordered 
something  good  to  eat  and  a  bottle  of  excellent  beer 
from  the  rock.2 

"  Ah  !  a  very  fine  evening !  Ah  !  what  a  remarkable 
occurrence  to  see  our  good  Master  Wacht  here  in 
beautiful  Buch,  on  this  glorious  Sunday  evening.  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  can  hardly  believe  my  eyes.  Yonr 
respected  family  is,  I  presume,  somewhere  else  in  the 
country."  Thus  was  Master  Wacht  addressed  by  some 
one  with  a  shrill,  squeaking  voice.  The  man  who  thus 
interrupted  his  meditations  was  no  less  a  personage 
than  Herr  Pickard  Leberfink,  a  decorator  and  gilder 
by  trade,  and  one  of  the  drollest  men  in  the  world. 

Leberfink's  exterior  struck  everybody's  eye  as  some- 
thing eccentric  and  extraordinary.  He  was  of  small 
size,  thick  and  stumpy,  with  a  body  too  long,  and 
with  short  bowed  legs  ;  his  face  was  not  at  all  ugly, 
but  good-natured,  with  round  red  little  cheeks  and 
small  grey  eyes  that  were  by  no  means  wanting  in 
vivacity.  Pursuant  to  an  old  obsolete  French  fashion, 
he  was  elaborately  curled  and  powdered  every  day  ;  but 
it  was  on  Sundays  that  his  costume  was  especially 
striking.  For  then  he  wore,  to  take  one  example,  a 
striped  silk  coat  of  a  lilac  and  canary-yellow  colour 
with  immense  silver-plated  buttons,  a  waistcoat  em- 
broidered in  gay  tints,  satin  hose  of  a  brilliant  green, 
white  and  light-blue  silk  stockings,  delicately  striped, 
and  shining  black  polished  shoes,  upon  which  glittered 


1  Or  Bug,  as  it  is  generally  spelled,  a  pleasure  resort  on  the  Regnitz, 
about  half  an  hour  distant  from  Bamberg.  Hoffmann  was  in  the  habit 
of  visiting  it  almost  daily  when  he  lived  at  Bamberg. 

2  In  the  days  before  ice  was  preserved  on  such  an  extensive  scale  by 
the  German  brewers  as  it  is  at  the  present  time,  beer  was  kept  in  ex- 
cavations in  rock,  wherever  a  suitable  place  could  be  found  ;  this  made 
it  deliciously  cool  and  fresh. 


3*4 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


large  buckles  set  with  precious  stones.  If  to  this  we 
add  that  his  gait  was  the  elegant  gait  of  a  dancing 
master,  that  he  had  a  certain  cat-like  suppleness  of 
body,  and  that  his  little  legs  had  a  strange  knack  of 
knocking  the  heels  together  on  fitting  occasions, — for 
instance,  when  leaping  across  a  gutter,— it  could  not 
fail  but  that  the  little  decorator  got  himself  singled 
out  everywhere  as  an  extraordinary  creature.  With 
other  aspects  of  his  character  my  kindly  reader  will 
make  an  acquaintance  presently. 

Master  Wacht  was  not  altogether  displeased  at  hav- 
ing his  painful  meditations  interrupted  in  this  way. 
Herr,  or  better  Monsieur  Pickard  Leberfink,  decorator 
and  gilder,  was  a  great  fop,  but  at  the  same  time  the 
most  honest  and  faithful  soul  in  the  world  ;  he  was  a 
very  liberal-minded  man,  was  generous  to  the  poor, 
and  always  ready  to  serve  his  friends.  He  only  prac- 
tised his  calling  now  and  again,  merely  out  of  love  for 
it,  since  he  had  no  need  of  business.  He  was  rich  ;  his 
father  had  left  him  some  landed  property,  having  a  mag- 
nificent rock-cellar,  which  was  only  separated  from  Mas- 
ter Wacht's  premises  by  a  large  garden.  Master  Wacht 
was  fond  of  the  droll  little  Leberfink  on  account  of 
his  downright  genuineness,  and  also  because  he  was  a 
member  of  the  small  Protestant  community  which  was 
permitted  to  exercise  the  rites  of  its  faith  in  Bamberg. 
With  conspicuous  alacrity  and  willingness  Leberfink 
accepted  Wacht's  invitation  to  join  him  at  his  table,  and 
drink  another  bottle  of  beer  from  the  rock  along  with 
him.  He  began  the  conversation  by  saying  that  for  a 
long  time  he  had  been  wanting  to  call  upon  Master 
Wacht  at  his  own  house,  since  he  had  two  things  he 
wished  to  talk  to  him  about,  one  of  which  was  almost 
making  his  heart  burst.  Wacht  made  answer,  he 
thought  Leberfink  knew  him,  and  must  be  aware  that 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


315 


anybody  who  had  anything  to  say  to  him,  no  matter 
what  it  was,  might  speak  out  his  thoughts  frankly. 
Leberfink  now  imparted  to  the  Master  in  confidence 
that  the  wine-dealer  who  owned  the  beautiful  garden, 
with  the  massive  pavilion,  which  lay  between  their  two 
properties,  had  privately  offered  to  sell  it  to  him.  He 
thought  he  recollected  having  heard  Wacht  once  ex- 
press a  wish  how  very  much  he  should  like  to  own  this 
garden  ;  if  now  the  opportunity  was  come  to  satisfy 
this  wish,  he  (Leberfink)  offered  his  services  as  negotia- 
tor, and  expressed  his  willingness  to  settle  everything 
for  him. 

It  was  a  fact  that  Master  Wacht  had  for  some  time 
entertained  a  desire  to  enlarge  his  property  by  the 
addition  of  a  good  garden,  and  especially  so  since 
Nanni  was  always  longing  for  the  beautiful  shrubs  and 
trees  which  gave  out  such  a  luxurious  abundance  of 
sweet  scents  in  this  very  garden.  Moreover,  it  seemed 
to  him  now  as  if  Fortune  were  graciouly  smiling  upon 
him,  and  just  at  the  time  when  poor  Nanni  had 
experienced  such  bitter  trouble,  an  opportunity  for 
affording  her  pleasure  should  present  itself  so  unex- 
pectedly. The  Master  at  once  settled  all  the  needful 
particulars  with  the  obliging  decorator,  who  promised 
that  on  the  following  Sunday  Wacht  should  be  able 
to  stroll  through  the  garden  as  its  owner.  "  Come 
now,"  cried  Master  Wacht,  "  come  now,  friend  Le- 
berfink, out  with  it — what  is  it  that  is  making  your 
heart  burst  ?  " 

Then  Herr  Pickard  Leberfink  fell  to  sighing  in  the 
most  pitiable  manner  ;  and  he  pulled  the  most  extra- 
ordinary faces,  and  ran  on  with  such  a  string  of 
gibberish  that  nobody  could  make  either  head  or  tail 
of  it.  Master  Wacht,  however,  knew  what  to  make 
of  it,  for  he  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  Ah  !  that  may 


3i6 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


be  contrived  ;  "  and  he  smiled  to  himself  at  the  wonder- 
ful sympathy  of  their  related  spirits. 

This  meeting  with  Leberfink  had  certainly  done 
Master  Wacht  good  ;  he  believed  he  had  conceived  a 
plan  by  virtue  of  which  he  should  manage  not  only 
to  stand  against,  but  even  to  overcome,  the  severest 
and  most  terrible  misfortune  which,  according  to  his 
infatuated  way  of  thinking,  had  come  upon  him.  The 
only  thing  that  can  declare  the  verdict  of  the  tribunal 
within  him  is  the  course  of  action  he  adopted  ;  and 
perhaps,  kindly  reader,  this  tribunal  faltered  for  the 
first  time.  Here  is  the  place  to  offer  a  brief  remark, 
which,  perhaps,  would  not  very  well  lend  itself  for 
insertion  later.  As  so  frequently  happens  in  such 
cases,  old  Barbara  had  interfered  in  the  matter,  and 
been  very  urgent  in  her  accusations  of  the  loving  pair 
to  Master  Wacht,  making  it  a  special  charge  against 
them  that  they  had  always  read  worldly  books  together. 
The  Master  caused  her  to  bring  two  or  three  of  the 
books  which  Nanni  had.  One  was  a  work  of  Goethe's  ; 
unfortunately  it  is  not  known  which  work  it  was. 
After  turning  over  the  leaves,  he  gave  it  back  to 
Barbara,  that  she  might  restore  it  to  the  place  whence 
she  had  secretly  taken  it.  Not  a  single  word  about 
Nanni's  reading  ever  escaped  him  ;  once  only,  when 
some  seasonable  occasion  presented  at  dinner,  did  he 
say,  "  There  is  a  remarkable  mind  rising  up  amongst 
us  Germans  ;  God  grant  him  success  !  My  days  are 
over ;  such  things  are  not  for  my  age,  nor  yet  for  my 
calling ;  but  you — Jonathan !  I  envy  you  many 
things  that  will  come  to  light  in  the  days  to  come." 
Jonathan  understood  Wacht's  oracular  words  the 
more  easily,  since  some  days  previously  he  had  dis- 
covered by  chance  Götz  von  Berlichingen 1  lying  on 


Goethe's  well-known  work. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


3*7 


the  Master's  work-table,  half  covered  by  other  pa- 
pers. Wacht's  great  mind,  whilst  acknowledging  the 
uncommon  genius  of  the  new  writer,  had  also  per- 
ceived the  impossibility  of  beginning  a  new  flight  him- 
self. 

Next  day  poor  Nanni  hung  her  head  like  a  sick 
dove.  "What's  the  matter  with  my  dear  child?" 
asked  Master  Wacht  in  the  tender  sympathetic  tone 
that  was  so  peculiarly  his  own,  and  with  which  he 
knew  how  to  stir  everybody's  heart,  "  what's  the 
matter  with  my  dear  child  ?  are  you  ill  ?  I  can't 
believe  it.  You  don't  get  out  into  the  fresh  air 
sufficiently.  See  here  now  ;  I  have  a  long  time  been 
wishing  you  would  for  once  in  a  way  bring  me  my  tea 
out  to  the  workshop.  Do  so  to-day  ;  we  may  expect 
a  most  beautiful  evening.  You  will  come,  won't  you, 
Nanni,  my  darling  ?  You  will  butter  me  some  rolls 
yourself — that  will  make  them  ever  so  good."  There- 
with Master  Wacht  took  the  dear  girl  in  his  arms  and 
stroked  her  brown  curls  back  from  her  forehead,  and 
he  kissed  her  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  and  tenderly 
caressed  her, — treating  her,  in  fact,  in  the  most  affec- 
tionate way  that  he  knew  how  ;  and  he  was  well  aware 
of  the  irresistible  charm  of  his  manner  at  such  times. 
A  flood  of  tears  gushed  from  Nanni's  eyes,  and  with 
some  difficulty  all  she  could  get  out  was,  "  Father  ! 
father !  "  "  Well,  well  !  "  said  Wacht,  and  a  strain  of 
embarrassment  might  have  been  detected  in  his  voice, 
"all  may  yet  turn  out  well." 

A  week  passed  ;  naturally  enough  Jonathan  had 
not  shown  himself,  and  the  Master  had  not  mentioned 
him  with  a  single  syllable.  On  Sunday,  when  the 
soup  was  standing  smoking  on  the  table,  and  the 
family  were  about  to  take  their  seats  for  dinner,  Master 
Wacht  asked  gaily,  "And  where  is  our  Jonathan?" 


3i8  MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 

Rettel,  with  a  view  to  sparing  poor  Nanni,  replied  in 
an  undertone,  "  Father,  don't  you  know  then  what's 
taken  place  ?  Wouldn't  Jonathan  of  course  be  shy  of 
showing  himself  here  in  your  presence  ?  "  "  Oh  the 
monkey  !  "  said  Wacht,  laughing  ;  "  let  Christian  run 
over  at  once  and  fetch  him." 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  young  advocate 
failed  not  to  put  in  an  appearance  immediately,  nor 
that  during  the  first  moments  after  his  arrival  a  dark 
oppressive  thunder-cloud,  as  it  were,  hovered  over 
them  all.  At  length,  however,  Master  Wacht's  un- 
constrained good  spirits,  seconded  by  Leberfink's  droll 
sallies,  succeeded  in  calling  forth  a  tone  of  conversation 
which,  if  it  could  not  be  called  exactly  merry,  yet 
managed  to  maintain  the  balance  of  concord  pretty 
evenly.  After  dinner  Master  Wacht  said,  "  Let  us 
get  a  little  fresh  air  and  stroll  out  to  my  workyard." 
And  they  did  so. 

Monsieur  Pickard  Leberfink  deliberately  kept  close 
to  Rettelchen's  side,  who  was  a  pattern  of  friendliness 
towards  him,  since  the  polite  decorator  had  exhausted 
himself  in  praising  her  dishes,  and  had  confessed  that 
never  so  long  as  he  had  lived,  not  even  when  dining 
with  the  ecclesiastics  in  Banz,1  had  he  enjoyed  a  more 
delicious  meal.  As  Master  Wacht  now  hurried  on  at 
a  quick  pace  right  across  the  middle  of  the  workyard, 
with  a  large  bundle  of  keys  in  his  hand,  the  young 
lawyer  was  unintentionally  brought  close  to  Nanni. 
But  all  that  the  lovers  ventured  upon  were  stolen  sighs 
and  low  soft-breathed  love-plaints. 

Master  Wacht  came  to  a  halt    in  front  of  a  fine 


1  A  once  rich  and  celebrated  Benedictine  abbey  between  Bamberg 
and  Coburg,  founded  in  the  eleventh  century,  and  frequently  destroyed 
and  sacked  in  war. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


3*9 


newly-made  door,  which  had  been  constructed  in  the 
wall  parting  his  workyard  from  the  merchant's  gar- 
den. He  unlocked  the  door  and  stepped  in,  inviting 
his  family  to  follow  him.  They,  none  of  them,  knew 
exactly  what  to  make  of  the  old  gentleman,  except 
Herr  Pickard  Leberfink,  who  never  laid  aside  his  sly 
smile,  or  ceased  his  soft  giggle.  In  the  midst  of  the 
beautiful  garden  there  was  a  very  spacious  pavilion  ; 
this  too  Master  Wacht  opened,  and  stepping  in  re- 
mained standing  in  its  centre  ;  from  every  one  of  its 
windows  one  obtained  a  different  romantic  view. 
"  Yes,"  said  Master  Wacht  in  a  voice  that  bore,  wit- 
ness to  a  heart  well  pleased  with  itself,  "here  I  am 
in  my  own  property ;  this  beautiful  garden  is  mine. 
I  was  obliged  to  buy  it,  not  so  much  to  augment  my 
own  place  or  increase  the  value  of  my  property,  no  ! 
but  because  I  knew  that  a  certain  darling  little  thing 
longed  so  for  these  shrubs  and  trees,  and  for  these 
beautiful  sweet-smelling  flower-beds." 

Then  Nanni  threw  herself  upon  the  old  gentleman's 
breast  and  cried,  "  O  father  !  father  !  You  will  break 
my  heart  with  your  kindness,  wTith  your  goodness  ; 

do  have  pity "   "  There,  there,  say  no  more," 

Master  Wacht  interrupted  his  suffering  child,  "  be  a 
good  girl,  and  all  may  be  brought  right  in  some  mar- 
vellous wTay.     You  can  find  a  great  deal  of  comfort 

in   this    little   paradise  "   "  Oh  !  yes,  yes,  yes," 

exclaimed  Nanni  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  "O  ye 
trees,  ye  shrubs,  ye  flowers,  ye  distant  hills,  you  beau- 
tiful fleeting  evening  clouds — my  spirit  lives  wholly  in 
you  all  ;  I  shall  come  to  myself  again  wThen  your  sweet 
voices  comfort  me."  Therewith  Nanni. ran  out  of  the 
open  door  of  the  pavilion  into  the  garden  like  a  star- 
tled young  roe  ;  and  Jonathan,  the  lawyer,  delayed  not 
to  follow  her  at  his  fastest  speed,  for  no  power  would 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


then  have  been  able  to  keep  him  back.  Monsieur 
Pickard  Leberfink  requested  permission  to  show  Ret- 
telchen  round  the  new  property. 

Meanwhile  old  Wacht  had  beer  and  tobacco  brought 
to  a  spot  under  the  trees,  close  at  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
whence  he  could  look  down  into  the  valley  ;  and  there 
he  sat  in  a  right  glad  and  comfortable  humour,  puffing 
the  blue  clouds  of  genuine  Holland  into  the  air.  No 
doubt  my  kindly  reader  is  wondering  greatly  at  this 
frame  of  mind  in  Master  Wacht,  and  is  at  a  loss  to  ex- 
plain to  himself  how  a  mood  like  this  was  at  all  possible 
to  a  temperament  like  Wacht's.  He  had  arrived,  not  so 
much  at  any  determined  plan  as  at  the  conviction  that 
the  Eternal  Power  could  not  possibly  let  him  live  to 
experience  such  a  very  terrible  misfortune  as  that  of 
seeing  his  favourite  child  united  to  a  lawyer  ;  that  is, 
to  Satan  himself.  "  Something  will  happen,"  he  said  to 
himself  ;  "  something  must  happen,  by  which  either 
this  unhappy  affair  will  be  broken  off  or  Jonathan 
snatched  from  the  pit  of  destruction.  It  would  be 
rash  temerity,  nay,  perhaps  a  ruinous  piece  of  mis- 
chief, producing  the  exact  contrary  of  what  was  wished, 
if  with  my  feeble  hand  I  were  to  attempt  to  control  the 
fly-wheel  of  Destiny." 

It  is  hard  to  credit  what  miserable,  nay,  often  what 
absurd  reasons  a  man  wTill  hunt  up  in  order  to  repre- 
sent the  approaching  misfortune  as  avertable.  So  there 
were  moments  in  which  Wacht  built  his  hopes  upon 
the  arrival  of  wild  Sebastian,  whom  he  pictured  to 
himself  as  a  stalwart  young  fellow  in  the  full  flush  and 
pride  of  youth,  just  on  the  point  of  attaining  to  man- 
hood, and  that  he  would  bring  about  a  change  of  di- 
rection in  the  drifting  of  circumstances,  and  make 
things  different  from  what  they  then  were.  The  very 
common,  and  alas  !  often  too  true  idea  came  into  his 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


321 


head,  that  woman  is  too  greatly  impressed  by  strong 
and  striking  manliness  not  to  be  conquered  by  it  at  last. 

When  the  sun  began  to  go  down,  Monsieur  Pickard 
Leberfink  invited  the  family  to  go  into  his  garden, 
which  adjoined  their  own,  and  take  a  little  refreshment. 
Beside  Wacht's  new  possession  the  noble  decorator 
and  gilder's  garden  formed  a  most  ridiculous  and 
extraordinary  contrast.  Whilst  almost  too  small  in 
size,  so  that  the  only  thing  it  could  perhaps  boast  in  its 
favour  was  the  good  height  at  which  it  was  situated, 
it  was  laid  out  in  Dutch  style,  the  trees  and  hedges 
clipped  with  the  shears  in  the  most  scrupulous  and 
pedantic  fashion.  The  slender  stems  of  the  fruit-trees 
standing  in  the  flower-beds  looked  very  pretty  in  their 
coats  of  light  blue  and  rose  tints,  and  pale  yellow,  and 
other  colours.  Leberfink  had  varnished  them,  and  so 
beautified  Nature.  Moreover  they  saw  in  the  trees  the 
apples  of  the  Hesperides.1 

But  yet  several  further  surprises  were  in  store. 
Leberfink  bade  the  girls  pluck  themselves  a  nosegay 
each  ;  but  on  gathering  the  flowers  they  perceived  to 
their  amazement  that  both  stalks  and  leaves  were 
gilded.  It  was  also  very  remarkable  that  all  the  leaves 
which  Rettel  took  into  her  hands  were  shaped  like 
hearts. 

The  refreshment  upon  which  Leberfink  regaled  his 
guests  consisted  of  the  choicest  confectionery,  the 
finest  sweetmeats,  and  old  Rhine  wine  and  Muscatel. 
Rettel  was  quite  beside  herself  over  the  confectionery, 
observing  with  special  emphasis  that  such  sweetmeats, 
which  were  for  the  most  part  splendidly  silvered  and 
gilded,  were  not,  she  knew  made  in  Bamberg.  Then 
Monsieur  Pickard  Leberfink  assured    her  privately, 


1  That  is,  they  were  golden,  or  gilded. 
Vol.  II.— 21 


322 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


with  a  most  amorous  smirk,  that  he  himself  knew  a 
little  about  baking  cakes  and  sweets,  and  that  he  was 
the  happy  maker  of  all  these  delicious  dainties.  Rettel 
almost  fell  upon  her  knees  before  him  in  reverence 
and  astonishment ;  and  yet  the  greatest  surprise  was 
still  in  store  for  her. 

In  the  deepening  dusk  Monsieur  Pickard  Leberfink 
very  cleverly  contrived  to  entice  little  Rettel  into  a 
small  arbour.  No  sooner  was  he  alone  with  her  than 
he  recklessly  plumped  himself  down  upon  both  knees 
in  the  wet  grass,  notwithstanding  that  he  was  wearing 
his  brilliant  green  satin  hose ;  and,  amidst  many 
strange  and  unintelligible  sounds  of  distress — not  very 
dissimilar  to  the  midnight  elegies  of  the  tom-cat  Hinz  1 
— he  presented  her  with  an  immense  nosegay  of  flowers, 
in  the  middle  of  which  was  the  finest  full-blown  rose 
that  could  be  found  anywhere.  Rettel  did  what  every- 
body does  who  has  a  nosegay  given  to  him  ;  she  raised 
it  to  her  nose  ;  but  in  the  selfsame  moment  she  felt  a 
sharp  prick.  In  her  alarm  she  was  about  to  throw  the 
nosegay  away.  But  see  what  charming  wonder  had  re- 
vealed itself  in  the  meantime  !  A  beautifully  varnished 
little  cupid  had  leapt  up  out  of  the  heart  of  the  rose 
and  was  holding  out  a  burning  heart  with  both  hands 
towards  Rettel.  From  his  mouth  depended  a  small 
strip  of  paper  on  which  were  written  the  words,  "  Voilä 
le  coeur  de  Monsieur  Pickard  Leberfink,  que  je  vous 
offre  "  (Here  I  offer  you  the  heart  of  Monsieur  Pickard 
Leberfink). 

"Good  gracious!"    exclaimed   Rettel,  very  much 

1  Hinze  is  Tieck's  Gestiefelter  Kater  (Puss  in  Boots).  The  reference 
is  perhaps  to  act  ii.  scene  2,  where  Hinze  goes  out  to  catch  rabbits, 
&c,  and  hears  the  nightingale  singing,  the  humour  of  the  scene  lying 
in  the  quick  alternation  of  the  human  poetic  sentiments  and  the  native 
instincts  of  the  cat. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


323 


alarmed.  "  Good  gracious  !  what  are  you  doing,  my 
good  Herr  Leberfink  ?  Don't  kneel  down  in  front  of 
me  as  if  I  were  a  princess.  You  will  make  marks  on 
your  beautiful  satin — in  the  wet  grass,  and  you  will 
catch  cold  yourself  ;  but  elder  tea  and  white  sugar 
candy  are  good  remedies." 

"  No  !  "  exclaimed  the  desperate  lover — "  No,  O 
Margaret,  Pickard  Leberfink,  who  loves  you  with  all 
his  heart,  will  not  rise  from  the  wet  grass  until  you 

promise  to  be  his  "   "  You  want  to  marry  me  ? " 

asked  Rettel.  "  Well  then,  up  you  get  at  once.  Speak 
to  my  father,  darling  Leberfink,  and  drink  one  or  two 
cups  of  elder  tea  this  evening." 

Why  should  the  reader  be  longer  wearied  with 
Leberfink's  and  Rettel's  folly  ?  They  were  made  for 
each  other,  and  were  betrothed,  at  which  Father  Wacht 
was  right  glad  in  his  own  teasing,  humorous  way. 

A  certain  degree  of  life  was  introduced  into  Wacht's 
house  by  Rettel's  betrothal  ;  and  even  the  disconsolate 
lovers  had  more  freedom,  since  they  were  less  observed. 
But  something  of  a  quite  special  character  was  to 
happen  to  put  an  abrupt  end  to  this  quiet  and  com- 
fortable condition  in  which  they  were  all  living.  The 
young  lawyer  seemed  particularly  preoccupied,  and  his 
thoughts  busy  with  some  affair  or  another  that  absorbed 
all  his  energies  ;  his  visits  at  Wacht's  house  even  began 
to  be  less  frequent,  and  he  often  stayed  away  in  the 
evening — a  thing  he  had  never  been  wont  to  do  previ- 
ously. "  What  can  be  the  matter  with  our  Jonathan  ? 
He  is  completely  preoccupied  ;  he's  quite  another  fel- 
low from  what  he  used  to  be,"  said  Master  Wacht,  al- 
though he  knew  very  well  what  was  the  cause,  or 
rather  the  event,  which  was  exercising  such  a  visible 
influence  upon  the  young  lawyer,  at  least  to  all  out- 
ward appearance.    To  tell  the  truth,  he  looked  upon 


324  MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


this  event  as  the  dispensation  of  Providence  through 
which  he  should  perhaps  escape  the  great  misfortune 
by  which  he  believed  himself  threatened,  and  which  he 
felt  would  completely  upset  all  the  happiness  of  his 
life. 

Some  few  months  previously  a  young  and  unknown 
lady  had  arrived  in  Bamberg,  and  under  circumstances 
which  could  only  be  called  singular  and  mysterious. 
She  was  staying  at  the  "White  Lamb."  All  the  ser- 
vants she  had  with  her  were  an  old  grey-haired  man- 
servant and  an  old  lady's-maid.  Very  various  were 
the  opinions  current  about  her.  Many  maintained  she 
was  a  distinguished  and  immensely  rich  Hungarian 
countess,  who,  owing  to  matrimonial  dissensions,  was 
compelled  to  take  up  her  residence  in  solitary  retire- 
ment in  Bamberg  for  a  time.  Others,  on  the  contrary, 
set  her  down  as  an  ordinary  forsaken  Dido,  and  yet 
others  as  an  itinerant  singer,  who  would  soon  throw 
off  her  veil  of  nobility  and  announce  herself  as  about 
to  give  a  concert, — possibly  she  had  no  recommenda- 
tions to  the  Prince-bishop.  At  any  rate  the  majority 
were  unanimous  in  making  up  their  minds  to  regard 
the  stranger,  who,  according  to  the  statements  of  the 
few  persons  who  had  seen  her,  was  of  exceptional 
beauty,  as  an  extremely  ambiguous  person. 

It  had  been  noticed  that  the  stranger  lady's  old  man- 
servant had  followed  the  young  lawyer  about  a  long 
time,  until  one  day  he  caught  him  at  the  spring  in  the 
market-place,  which  is  ornamented  with  an  image  of 
Neptune  (whom  the  honest  folk  of  Bamberg  are  gener- 
ally in  the  habit  of  calling  the  Fork-man)  ;  and  there 
the  old  man  stood  talking  to  Jonathan  a  long,  long 
time.  Spirits  alive  to  all  that  goes  forward,  who  can 
never  meet  anybody  without  asking  eagerly,  "  Where- 
ever  has  he  been  ?    Wherever  is  he  going  ?  Whatever 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


325 


is  he  doing  ?  "  and  so  on,  had  made  out  that  the  young 
advocate  very  often  visited  the  beautiful  unknown,  in 
fact  almost  every  day  and  at  night-time,  when  he  spent 
several  hours  with  her.  It  was  soon  the  talk  of  the 
town  that  the  lawyer  Jonathan  Engelbrecht  had  got 
entangled  in  the  dangerous  toils  of  the  young  unknown 
adventuress. 

It  would  have  been,  both  then  and  always,  entirely 
contrary  to  Master  Wacht's  character  to  make  use  of 
this  apparent  erring  conduct  of  the  young  advocate  as 
a  weapon  against  poor  Nanni.  He  left  it  to  Dame 
Barbara  and  her  whole  following  of  gossips  to  keep 
Nanni  informed  of  all  particulars  ;  from  them  she 
would  learn  every  item  of  intelligence,  and  that,  he 
made  no  doubt,  with  a  due  amplification  of  all  the  de- 
tails. The  crisis  of  the  whole  affair  was  reached  when 
one  day  the  young  lawyer  suddenly  set  off  on  a  journey 
along  with  the  lady,  nobody  knew  whither.  "  That's 
the  way  frivolity  goes  on  ;  the  forward  young  gentle- 
man will  lose  his  business,"  said  the  knowing  ones. 
But  this  was  not  the  case  ;  for  not  a  little  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  public,  old  Eichheimer  himself  attended 
to  his  foster-son's  business  with  the  most  painstaking 
care  ;  he  seemed  to  be  initiated  into  the  secret  about 
the  lady  and  to  approve  of  all  the  steps  taken  by  his 
foster-son. 

Master  Wacht  never  spoke  a  word  about  the  matter, 
and  once  when  poor  Nanni  could  no  longer  hide  her 
trouble,  but  moaned  in  a  low  tone,  her  voice  half- 
choked  with  tears,  "  Why  has  Jonathan  left  us?" 
Master  Wacht  replied  in  an  off-handed  way,  "  Ay, 
that's  just  what  lawyers  do.  Who  knows  what  sort  of 
an  intrigue  Jonathan  has  got  entangled  in  with  the 
stranger,  thinking  it  will  bring  him  money,  and  be  to 
his  advantage  ?  "    Then,  however,  Herr  Pickard  Leber- 


326 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


fink  was  wont  to  take  Jonathan's  side,  and  to  assert 
that  he  for  his  part  was  convinced  the  stranger  could 
be  nothing  less  than  a  princess,  who  had  had  recourse 
to  the  already  world-renowned  young  advocate  in  an 
extremely  delicate  law-suit.  And  therewith  he  also 
unearthed  so  many  stories  about  lawyers  who,  through 
especial  sagacity  and  especial  penetration  and  skill, 
had  unravelled  the  most  complicated  difficulties,  and 
brought  to  light  the  most  closely  hidden  things,  till 
Master  Wacht  begged  him  for  goodness'  sake  to  hold 
his  tongue,  since  he  was  feeling  quite  ill  and  sick  ; 
Nanni,  on  the  contrary,  derived  inward  comfort  from 
all  Leberfink's  remarkable  stories,  and  she  plucked  up 
her  hopes  again.  With  her  trouble,  however,  there 
was  united  a  perceptible  mixture  of  annoyance  and 
anger,  and  particularly  at  the  moments  when  it  seemed 
to  her  utterly  impossible  that  Jonathan  could  have 
been  untrue  to  her.  From  this  it  might  be  inferred 
that  Jonathan  had  not  sought  to  exculpate  himself,  but 
had  obstinately  maintained  silence  about  his  adven- 
ture. 

After  some  months  had  elapsed  the  young  lawyer 
came  back  to  Bamberg  in  the  highest  good  spirits  ; 
and  Master  Wacht,  on  seeing  the  bright  glad  light  in 
Nanni's  eyes  when  she  looked  at  him,  could  not  well 
do  otherwise  than  conclude  that  Jonathan  had  fully 
justified  his  conduct  to  her.  Doubtless  it  would  not 
be  disagreeable  to  the  indulgent  reader  to  have  the 
history  of  what  had  taken  place  between  the  stranger 
lady  and  the  young  lawyer  inserted  here  as  an  episodi- 
cal 7ioveIla. 

Count  Z  ,  a  Hungarian,  owner  of  more  than  a 

million,  married  from  pure  affection  a  miserably  poor 
girl,  who  drew  down  upon  her  head  the  hatred  of  his 
family,  not  only  because  her  own  family  was  enshrouded 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


327 


in  complete  obscurity,  but  also  because  the  only  val- 
uable treasures  she  possessed  were  her  divine  virtue, 
beauty,  and  grace.  The  Count  promised  his  wife  that 
at  his  death  he  would  settle  all  his  property  upon  her 
by  will 

Once  when  he  returned  to  Vienna  into  the  arms  of 
his  wife,  after  having  been  summoned  from  Paris  to  St. 
Petersburg  on  diplomatic  business,  he  related  to  her 
that  he  had  been  attacked  by  a  severe  illness  in  a  little 
town,  the  name  of  which  he  had  quite  forgotten  ;  there 
he  had  seized  the  opportunity  whilst  recovering  from 
his  illness  to  draw  up  a  will  in  her  favour  and  deposit 
it  with  the  court.  Some  miles  farther  on  the  road  he 
must  have  been  seized  with  a  new  and  doubly  virulent 
attack  of  his  grave  nervous  complaint,  so  that  the  name 
of  the  place  where  he  had  made  his  will  and  that  of  the 
court  where  he  had  deposited  it  had  completely  slipped 
his  memory;  moreover,  he  had  lost  the  document  of 
receipt  from  the  court  acknowledging  the  deposition 
of  the  testament.  As  so  often  happens  in  similar  cases 
the  Count  postponed  the  making  of  a  new  will  from 
day  to  day,  until  he  was  overtaken  by  death.  Then  his 
relatives  did  not  neglect  to  lay  claim  to  all  the  property 
he  left  behind  him,  so  that  the  poor  Countess  saw  her 
too  rich  inheritance  melted  down  to  the  insignificant 
sum  represented  by  certain  valuable  presents  she  had 
received  from  the  Count,  and  which  his  relatives  could 
not  deprive  her  of.  Many  different  notifications  bear- 
ing upon  the  features  of  the  case  were  found  amongst 
the  Count's  papers  ;  but  since  such  statements,  that  a 
will  was  in  existence,  could  not  take  the  place  of  the 
will  itself,  they  proved  not  to  be  of  the  slightest  ad- 
vantage to  the  Countess.  She  had  consulted  many 
learned  lawyers  about  her  unfortunate  situation,  and 
had  finally  come  to  Bamberg  to  have  recourse  to  olcj 


328 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


Eichheimcr  ;  but  he  had  directed  her  to  young  Engel- 
brecht, who,  being  less  busy  and  equipped  with  excel- 
lent intellectual  acuteness  and  great  love  for  his  pro- 
fession, would  perhaps  be  able  to  get  a  clue  to  the 
unfortunate  will  or  furnish  some  other  circumstantial 
proof  of  its  actual  existence. 

The  young  advocate  set  to  work  by  requesting  per- 
mission of  the  competent  authorities  to  submit  the 
Count's  papers  in  the  castle  to  another  searching  in- 
vestigation. He  himself  went  thither  along  with  the 
Countess  ;  and  in  the  presence  of  the  officials  of  the 
court  he  found  in  a  cupboard  of  nut-wood,  that  had 
hitherto  escaped  observation,  an  old  portfolio,  in  which, 
though  they  did  not  find  the  Count's  document  of 
receipt  relating  to  the  deposition  of  the  will,  they  yet 
discovered  a  paper  which  could  not  fail  to  be  of  the 
utmost  importance  for  the  young  advocate's  purpose. 
For  this  paper  contained  an  accurate  description  of  all 
the  circumstances,  even  the  minutest  details,  under 
which  the  Count  had  made  a  will  in  favour  of  his 
wife  and  deposited  it  in  the  keeping  of  a  court.  The 
Count's  diplomatic  journey  from  Paris  to  Petersburg 
had  brought  him  to  Königsberg  in  Prussia.  Here  he 
chanced  to  come  across  some  East  Prussian  noblemen, 
whom  he  had  previously  met  with  whilst  on  a  visit  to 
Italy.  In  spite  of  the  express  rate  at  which  the  Count 
was  travelling,  he  nevertheless  suffered  himself  to  be 
persuaded  to  make  a  short  excursion  into  East  Prussia, 
particularly  as  the  big  hunts  had  begun,  and  the  Count 
was  a  passionate  sportsman.  He  named  the  towns 
Wehlau,  Alienburg,  Friedland,  &c,  as  places  where 
he  had  been.  Then  he  set  out  to  go  straight  forwards 
directly  to  the  Russian  frontier,  without  returning  to 
Königsberg. 

In  a  little  town,  whose  wretched  appearance  the 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


329 


Count  could  hardly  find  words  to  describe,  he  was 
suddenly  prostrated  by  a  nervous  disorder,  which  for 
several  days  quite  deprived  him  of  consciousness. 
Fortunately  there  was  a  young  and  right  clever  doctor 
in  the  place,  who  opposed  a  stout  resistance  to  the 
disease,  so  that  the  Count  not  only  recovered  con- 
sciousness but  also  his  health,  so  far  that  after  a  few 
days  he  was  in  a  position  to  continue  his  journey.  But 
his  heart  was  oppressed  with  the  fear  that  a  second 
attack  on  the  road  might  kill  him,  and  so  plunge  his 
wife  in  a  condition  of  the  most  straitened  poverty. 
Not  a  little  to  his  astonishment  he  learned  from  the 
doctor  that  the  place,  in  spite  of  its  small  size  and 
wretched  appearance,  was  the  seat  of  a  Prussian  pro- 
vincial court,  and  that  he  could  there  have  his  will 
registered  with  all  due  formality,  as  soon  as  he  could 
succeed  in  establishing  his  identity.  This,  however, 
was  a  most  formidable  difficulty,  for  who  knew  the 
Count  in  this  district?  But  wonderful  are  the  doings 
of  Accident !  Just  as  the  Count  got  out  of  his  carriage 
in  front  of  the  inn  of  the  little  town,  there  stood  in  the 
doorway  a  grey-haired  old  invalid,  almost  eighty  years 
old,  who  dwelt  in  a  neighbouring  village  and  earned  a 
living  by  plaiting  willow  baskets,  and  who  only  seldom 
came  into  the  town.  In  his  youth  he  had  served  in 
the  Austrian  army,  and  for  fifteen  successive  years  had 
been  groom  to  the  Count's  father.  At  the  first  glance 
he  remembered  his  master's  son  ;  and  he  and  his  wife 
acted  as  fully  legitimated  vouchers  of  the  Count's 
identity,  and  not  to  their  detriment,  as  may  well  be 
conceived. 

The  young  advocate  at  once  saw  that  all  depended 
upon  the  locality  and  its  exact  correspondence  with 
the  Count's  statements,  if  he  wanted  to  glean  further 
details  and  find  a  clue  to  the  place  where  the  Count 


330  MASTER   JOHANNES  WACHT. 


had  been  ill  and  made  his  testament.  He  set  off  with 
the  Countess  for  East  Prussia.  There  by  examination 
of  the  post-books  he  was  desirous  of  making  out,  if 
possible,  the  route  of  travel  pursued  by  the  Count. 
But  after  a  good  deal  of  wasted  effort,  he  only  man- 
aged to  discover  that  the  Count  had  taken  post-horses 
from  Eylau  to  Allenburg.  Beyond  Allenburg  every 
trace  was  lost ;  nevertheless  he  satisfied  himself  that 
the  Count  had  certainly  travelled  through  Prussian 
Lithuania,  and  of  this  he  was  still  further  convinced  on 
finding  registered  at  Tilsit  that  the  Count  had  arrived 
there  and  departed  thence  by  extra  post.  Beyond  this 
point  again  all  traces  were  lost.  Accordingly  it  seemed 
to  the  young  advocate  that  they  must  seek  for  the  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulty  in  the  short  stretch  of  country 
between  Allenburg  and  Tilsit. 

Quite  dispirited  and  full  of  anxious  care  he  arrived 
one  rainy  evening  at  the  small  country  town  of  Inster- 
burg,  accompanied  by  the  Countess.  On  entering  the 
wretched  apartments  in  the  inn,  he  became  conscious 
that  a  strange  kind  of  expectant  feeling  was  taking 
possession  of  him.  He  felt  so  like  being  at  home  in 
them,  as  if  he  had  even  been  there  before,  or  as  if  the 
place  had  been  most  accurately  described  to  him.  The 
Countess  withdrew  to  her  apartments.  The  young 
advocate  tossed  restlessly  on  his  bed.  When  the  morn- 
ing sun  shone  in  brightly  through  the  window,  his 
eyes  fell  upon  the  paper  in  one  corner  of  the  room. 
He  noticed  that  a  large  patch  of  the  blue  colour  with 
which  the  room  was  but  lightly  washed  had  fallen  off, 
showing  the  disagreeable  glaring  yellow  that  formed 
the  ground  colour,  and  upon  it  he  observed  that  all 
kinds  of  hideous  faces  in  the  New  Zealand  style  had 
been  painted  to  serve  as  pleasing  arabesques.  Per- 
fectly beside  himself  with  joy  and  delight,  the  young 


MASTER  JOHANNES  IVA  CHT. 


331 


lawyer  sprang  out  of  bed.    He  was  in  the  room  in 

which  Count  Z          had  made  the  all-important  will. 

The  description  agreed  too  exactly  ;  there  could  not 
be  any  doubt  about  the  matter. 

But  why  now  weary  the  reader  with  all  the  minor 
details  of  the  things  that  now  took  place  one  after  the 
other?  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Insterburg  was  then,  as 
it  still  is,  the  seat  of  a  Prussian  superior  tribunal,  at 
that  time  called  an  Imperial  Court.  The  young  ad- 
vocate at  once  waited  upon  the  president  with  the 
Countess.  By  means  of  the  papers  which  she  had 
brought  with  her,  and  which  were  drawn  up  in  due 
authenticated  form,  the  Countess  established  her  own 
identity  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner  ;  and  the  will 
was  publicly  declared  to  be  perfectly  genuine.  Hence 
the  Countess,  who  had  left  her  own  country  in  great 
distress  and  poverty,  now  returned  in  the  full  possession 
of  all  the  rights  of  which  a  hostile  destiny  had  at- 
tempted to  deprive  her. 

In  Nanni's  eyes  the  advocate  appeared  like  a  hero 
from  heaven,  who  had  victoriously  protected  deserted 
innocence  against  the  wickedness  of  the  world.  Le- 
berfink also  poured  out  all  his  great  admiration  of  the 
young  lawyer's  acuteness  and  energy  in  exaggerated 
encomiums.  Master  Wacht,  too,  praised  Jonathan's 
industry,  and  this  trait  he  emphasised  ;  and  yet  the  boy 
had  really  done  nothing  but  what  it  was  his  duty  to 
do  ;  still  he  somehow  fancied  that  things  might  have 
been  managed  in  a  much  shorter  way.  "This  event  I 
regard,"  said  Jonathan,  "as  a  star  of  real  good  fortune, 
which  has  risen  upon  the  path  of  my  career  almost 
before  I  have  started  upon  it.  The  case  has  created  a 
great  deal  of  sensation.  All  the  Hungarian  magnates 
are  excited  about  it.  My  name  has  become  known. 
And  what  is  a  long  way  the  best  of  all,  the  Countess 


332  MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


was  so  liberal  as  to  honour  me  with  ten  thousand  Bra- 
bant thalers."  1 

During  the  course  of  the  young  advocate's  narration, 
the  muscles  of  Master  Wacht's  face  began  to  move  in 
a  remarkable  way,  till  at  last  his  countenance  wore  an 
expression  of  the  greatest  indignation.  "  What !  "  he 
at  length  shouted  in  a  lion-like  voice,  whilst  his  eyes 
flashed  fire — "What!  did  I  not  tell  you?  You  have 
made  a  sale  of  justice.  The  Countess,  in  order  to  get 
her  lawful  inheritance  out  of  the  hands  of  her  rascally 
relations,  has  had  to  pay  money,  to  sacrifice  to  Mam- 
mon. Faugh  !  faugh  !  be  ashamed  of  yourself."  All 
the  sensible  protestations  of  the  young  advocate,  as 
well  as  of  the  rest  of  the  persons  who  happened  to  be 
present,  were  not  of  the  slightest  avail.  For  a  second 
it  seemed  as  if  their  representations  would  gain  a  hear- 
ing, when  it  was  stated  that  no  one  had  ever  given  a 
present  with  more  willing  pleasure  than  the  Countess 
had  done  on  the  sudden  conclusion  of  her  case,  and 
that,  as  good  Leberfink  very  well  knew,  the  young  ad- 
vocate had  only  himself  to  blame  that  his  honorarium 
had  not  turned  out  to  be  more  in  amount  as  well  as 
more  on  a  level  with  the  magnitude  of  the  lady's  gain  ; 
nevertheless  Master  Wacht  stuck  to  his  own  opinion, 
and  they  heard  from  him  in  his  own  obstinate  fashion 
the  familiar  words,  "  So  soon  as  you  begin  to  talk  about 
justice,  you  and  everybody  else  in  the  world  ought  to 
hold  your  tongues  about  money.  It  is  true,"  he  went 
on  more  calmly  after  a  pause,  "  there  are  several  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  this  history  which  might 
very  well  excuse  you,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  lead 
you  astray  into  base  selfishness  ;  but  have  the  kindness 


1  So  named  from  the  place  where  they  were  struck.  See  note,  p. 
281,  Vol.  I. 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


333 


to  hold  your  tongue  about  the  Countess,  and  the  will, 
and  the  ten  thousand  thalers,  if  you  please.  I  should 
indeed  be  fancying  many  a  time  that  you  didn't  alto- 
gether belong  to  your  place  at  my  table  there." 

"  You  are  very  hard — very  unjust  towards  me,  father," 
said  the  young  advocate,  his  voice  trembling  with  sad- 
ness. Nanni's  tears  flowed  quietly  ;  Leberfink,  like  an 
experienced  man  of  the  world,  hastened  to  turn  the 
conversation  upon  the  new  gildings  in  St.  Gangolph's.1 

It  may  readily  be  conceived  in  what  strained  relations 
the  members  of  Wacht's  family  now  lived.  Where  was 
their  unconstrained  conversation,  their  bright  good 
spirits,  where  their  cheerfulness  ?  A  deadly  vexation 
was  slowly  gnawing  at  Wacht's  heart,  and  it  stood 
plainly  written  upon  his  countenance. 

Meanwhile  they  received  not  the  least  scrap  of  in- 
telligence from  Sebastian  Engelbrecht,  and  so  the  last 
feeble  ray  of  hope  that  Master  Wacht  had  seen  glim- 
mering appeared  about  to  fade.  Master  Wacht's  fore- 
man, Andreas  by  name,  was  a  plain,  honest,  faithful 
fellow,  who  clung  to  his  master  with  an  affection  that 
could  not  be  matched  anywhere.  "  Master,"  said  he 
one  morning  as  they  were  measuring  beams  together 
— "  Master,  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer  ;  it  breaks  my 

heart  to  see  you  suffer  so.    Fräulein  Nanni  poor 

Herr  Jonathan  !  "  Quickly  throwing  away  the  measur- 
ing lines,  Master  Wacht  stepped  up  to  him  and  took 
him  by  the  breast,  saying,  "  Man,  if  you  are  able  to 
tear  out  of  this  heart  the  convictions  as  to  what  is  true 
and  right  which  have  been  engraven  upon  it  by  the 
Eternal  Power  in  letters  of  fire,  then  what  you  are 
thinking  about  may  come  to  pass."  Andreas,  who 
was  not  the  man  to  enter  upon  a  dispute  with  his  mas- 


A  church  situated  at  the  beginning  of  the  Steinweg. 


334 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


ter  upon  these  sort  of  terms,  scratched  himself  behind 
his  ear,  and  replied  with  an  embarrassed  smirk,  "  Then 
if  a  certain  distinguished  gentleman  were  to  pay  a 
morning  visit  to  the  workshop,  I  suppose  it  would  pro- 
duce no  particular  effect  ?  "  Master  Wacht  perceived 
in  a  moment  that  a  storm  was  brewing  against  him, 
and  that  it  was  in  all  probability  being  directed  by 
Count  von  Kusel. 

Just  as  the  clock  struck  nine  Nanni  appeared  in  the 
workshop,  followed  by  old  Barbara  with  the  breakfast. 
The  Master  was  not  well  pleased  to  see  his  daughter, 
since  it  was  out  of  rule  ;  and  he  saw  the  programme  of 
the  concerted  attack  already  peeping  out.  Nor  was  it 
long  before  the  minor  canon  really  made  his  appear- 
ance, as  smart  and  prim  and  proper  as  a  pet  doll. 
Close  at  his  heels  followed  Monsieur  Pickard  Leberfink, 
decorator  and  gilder,  clad  in  all  sorts  of  gay  colours, 
so  that  he  looked  not  unlike  a  spring-chafer.  Wacht 
pretended  to  be  highly  delighted  with  the  visit,  the 
cause  of  which  he  at  once  insinuated  to  be  that  the 
minor  canon  very  likely  wanted  to  see  his  newest 
models.  The  truth  is,  Master  Wacht  felt  very  shy  at 
the  possibility  of  having  to  listen  to  the  canon's  long- 
winded  sermons,  wThich  he  would  deliver  himself  of 
uselessly  if  he  attempted  to  shake  his  (Wacht's)  resolu- 
tion with  respect  to  Nanni  and  Jonathan.  Accident 
came  to  his  rescue  ;  for  just  as  the  canon,  the  young 
lawyer,  and  the  varnisher  were  standing  together,  and 
the  first-named  wTas  beginning  to  approach  the  most 
intimate  relations  of  life  in  the  most  elegantly  turned 
phrases,  fat  Hans  shouted  out  "Wood  here!"  and  big 
Peter  on  the  other  side  pushed  the  wood  across  to  him 
so  roughly  that  it  caught  the  canon  a  violent  blow  on 
the  shoulder  and  sent  him  reeling  against  Monsieur 
Pickard  ;  he  in  his  turn  stumbled  against  the  young 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


335 


advocate,  and  in  a  trice  the  whole  three  had  disap- 
peared. For  just  behind  them  was  a  huge  piled-up 
heap  of  chips  and  saw-dust  and  so  on.  The  unfortu- 
nates were  buried  under  this  heap,  so  that  all  that 
could  be  seen  of  them  were  four  black  legs  and  two 
buff-coloured  ones  ;  the  latter  were  the  gala  stockings 
of  Herr  Pickard  Leberfink,  decorator  and  gilder.  It 
couldn't  possibly  be  helped  ;  the  journeymen  and  ap- 
prentices burst  out  into  a  ringing  peal  of  laughter, 
notwithstanding  that  Master  Wacht  bade  them  be  still 
and  look  grave. 

Of  them  all  the  canon  cut  the  worst  figure,  since  the 
saw-dust  had  got  into  the  folds  of  his  robe  and  even 
into  the  elegant  curls  which  adorned  his  head.  He  fled 
as  if  upon  the  wTings  of  the  wind,  covered  with  shame, 
and  the  young  advocate  hard  after  him.  Monsieur 
Pickard  Leberfink  was  the  only  one  who  preserved  his 
good  humour  and  took  the  thing  in  merry  part,  not- 
withstanding that  it  might  be  regarded  as  certain  he 
would  never  be  able  to  wear  the  buff-coloured  stock- 
ings again,  since  the  saw-dust  had  proved  especially 
injurious  to  them  and  had  quite  destroyed  the  "clock." 
Thus  the  storm  which  was  to  have  been  adventured 
against  Wacht  was  baffled  by  a  ridiculous  incident. 
But  the  Master  did  not  dream  what  terrible  thing  was 
to  happen  to  him  before  the  day  was  over. 

Master  Wacht  had  finished  dinner  and  was  just  going 
downstairs  in  order  to  betake  himself  to  his  workyard, 
when  he  heard  a  loud,  rough  voice  shouting  in  front 
of  the  house,  "  Hi,  there  !  This  is  where  that  knavish 
old  rascal,  Carpenter  Wacht,  lives,  isn't  it  ? "  A  voice 
in  the  street  made  answer,  "  There  is  no  knavish  old 
rascal  living  here  ;  this  is  the  house  of  our  respected 
fellow-citizen  Herr  Johannes  Wacht,  the  carpenter." 
In  the  same  moment  the  street-door  was  forced  open 


336 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


with  a  violent  bang,  and  a  big  strong  fellow  of  wild 
appearance  stood  before  the  master.  His  black  hair 
stuck  up  like  bristles  through  his  ragged  soldier's  cap, 
and  in  scores  of  places  his  tattered  tunic  was  unable  to 
conceal  his  loathsome  skin,  browned  with  filth  and  ex- 
posure to  rough  weather.  The  fellow  wore  soldier's 
shoes  on  his  feet,  and  the  blue  weals  on  his  ankles 
showed  the  traces  of  the  chains  he  had  been  fettered 
with.  "  Ho,  ho  ! "  cried  the  fellow,  "  I  bet  you  don't 
know  me.  You  don't  know  Sebastian  Engelbrecht, 
whom  you've  cheated  out  of  his  property — not  you." 
With  all  the  imposing  dignity  of  his  majestic  form, 
Master  Wacht  took  a  step  towards  the  man,  mechani- 
cally advancing  the  cane  he  held  in  his  hand.  Then 
the  wild  fellow  seemed  to  be  almost  thunderstruck  ;  he 
recoiled  a  few  paces,  and  then  raised  his  doubled  fists 
shouting,  "Ho,  ho!  I  know  where  my  property  is, 
and  I'll  go  and  help  myself  to  it,  in  spite  of  you,  you 
old  sinner."  And  he  ran  off  down  the  Kaulberg  like 
an  arrow  from  a  bow,  followed  by  the  crowd. 

Master  Wacht  stood  in  the  passage  like  a  statue  for 
several  seconds.  But  when  Nanni  cried  in  alarm, 
"  Good  heavens !  father,  that  was  Sebastian,"  he  went 
into  the  room,  more  reeling  than  walking,  and  sank 
down  exhausted  in  an  arm-chair  ;  then,  holding  both 
hands  before  his  face,  he  cried  in  a  heart-rending  voice, 
"  By  the  eternal  mercy  of  God,  that  is  Sebastian  Engel- 
brecht." 

There  arose  a  tumult  in  the  street,  the  crowd  poured 
down  the  Kaulberg,  and  voices  in  the  far  distance 
could  be  heard  shouting  "  Murder  !  murder  !  "  A  prey 
to  the  most  terrible  apprehensions,  the  Master  ran 
down  to  Jonathan's  dwelling,  situated  immediately  at 
the  foot  of  the  Kaulberg.  A  dense  mass  of  people  were 
pushing  and  crowding  together  in  front  of  him  ;  in  their 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT.  337 


midst  he  perceived  Sebastian  struggling  like  a  wild  an- 
imal against  the  watch,  who  had  just  thrown  him  upon 
the  ground,  where  they  overpowered  him  and  bound 
him  hand  and  foot,  and  led  him  away.  "  O  God  !  O 
God  !  Sebastian  has  slain  his  brother,"  lamented  the 
people,  who  came  crowding  out  of  the  house.  Master 
Wacht  forced  his  way  through  and  found  poor  Jona- 
than in  the  hands  of  the  doctors,  who  were  exerting 
themselves  to  call  him  back  to  life.  As  he  had  received 
three  powerful  blows  upon  the  head,  dealt  with  all  the 
strength  of  a  strong  man,  the  worst  was  to  be  feared. 

As  generally  happens  under  such  circumstances, 
Nanni  learnt  immediately  the  whole  history  of  the  affair 
from  her  kind-hearted  friends,  and  at  once  rushed  off  to 
her  lover's  dwelling,  where  she  arrived  just  as  the  young 
lawyer,  thanks  to  the  lavish  use  of  naphtha,  opened  his 
eyes  again,  and  the  doctors  were  talking  about  trepan- 
ning. What  further  took  place  may  be  conceived. 
Nanni  was  inconsolable  ;  Rettel,  notwithstanding  her 
betrothal,  was  sunk  in  grief  ;  and  Monsieur  Pickard 
Leberfink  exclaimed,  whilst  tears  of  sorrow  ran  down 
his  cheeks,  "  God  be  merciful  to  the  man  upon  whose 
pate  a  carpenter's  fist  falls."  The  loss  of  young  Herr 
Jonathan  would  be  irreparable.  At  any  rate  the  var- 
nish on  his  coffin  should  be  of  unsurpassed  brightness 
and  blackness  ;  and  the  silvering  of  the  skulls  and  other 
nice  ornaments  should  baffle  all  comparison. 

It  appeared  that  Sebastian  had  escaped  out  of  the 
hands  of  a  troop  of  Bavarian  soldiers,  whilst  they  were 
conducting  a  band  of  vagabonds  through  the  district  of 
Bamberg,  and  he  had  found  his  way  into  the  town  in 
order  to  carry  out  a  mad  project  which  he  had  for  a 
long  time  been  brooding  over  in  his  mind.  His  career 
was  not  that  of  an  abandoned,  vicious  criminal  ;  it  af- 
forded rather  an  example  of  those  supremely  frivolous- 

VOL.  II. —22 


338 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


minded  men,  who,  despite  the  very  admirable  qualities 
with  which  Nature  has  endowed  them,  give  way  to 
every  temptation  to  evil,  and  finally  sinking  to  the  low- 
est depths  of  vice,  perish  in  shame  and  misery.  In 
Saxony  he  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  petti-fogging 
lawyer,  who  had  made  him  believe  that  Master  Wacht, 
when  sending  him  his  patrimonial  inheritance,  had  paid 
him  very  much  short,  and  kept  back  the  remainder  for 
the  benefit  of  his  brother  Jonathan,  to  whom  he  had 
promised  to  give  his  favourite  daughter  Nanni  to  wife. 
Very  likely  the  old  deceiver  had  concocted  this  story 
out  of  various  utterances  of  Sebastian  himself.  The 
kindly  reader  already  knows  by  what  violent  means  Se- 
bastian set  to  work  to  secure  his  own  rights.  Immediately 
after  leaving  Master  Wacht  he  had  burst  into  Jonathan's 
room,  where  the  latter  happened  to  be  sitting  at  his 
study  table,  ordering  some  accounts  and  counting  the 
piles  of  money  which  lay  heaped  up  before  him.  His 
clerk  sat  in  the  other  corner  of  the  room.  "  Ah  !  you 
villain  ! "  screamed  Sebastian  in  a  fury,  "  there  you  are 
sitting  over  your  mammon.  Are  you  counting  what  you 
have  robbed  me  of  ?  Give  me  here  what  yon  old  ras- 
cal has  stolen  from  me  and  bestowed  upon  you.  You 
poor,  weak  thing  !  You  greedy  clutching  devil — you  !  " 
And  when  Sebastian  strode  close  up  to  him,  Jonathan 
instinctively  stretched  out  both  hands  to  ward  him  off, 
crying  aloud,  "Brother!  for  God's  sake,  brother!" 
But  Sebastian  replied  by  dealing  him  several  stunning 
blows  on  the  head  with  his  double  fist,,  so  that  Jonathan 
sank  down  fainting.  Sebastian  hastily  seized  upon  some 
of  the  rolls  of  gold  and  was  making  off  with  them — in 
which  naturally  enough  he  did  not  succeed. 

Fortunately  it  turned  out  that  none  of  Jonathan's 
wounds,  which  outwardly  wore  the  appearance  of  large 
bumps,  had  occasioned  any  serious  concussion  of  the 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


339 


brain,  and  hence  none  of  them  could  be  esteemed  as 
likely  to  prove  dangerous.  After  a  lapse  of  two  months, 
when  Sebastian  was  taken  away  to  the  convict  prison, 
where  he  was  to  atone  for  his  attempt  at  murder  by  a 
heavy  punishment,  the  young  lawyer  felt  himself  quite 
wrell  again. 

This  terrible  occurrence  exerted  such  a  shattering 
effect  upon  Master  Wacht  that  a  consuming  surly 
peevishness  was  the  consequence  of  it.  This  time  the 
stout  strong  oak  was  shaken  from  its  topmost  branch  to 
its  deepest  root.  Often  when  his  mind  was  thought 
to  be  busy  with  quite  different  matters,  he  was  heard 
to  murmur  in  a  low  tone,  "  Sebastian — a  fratricide  ! 
That's  how  you  reward  me  ?  "  and  then  he  seemed  to 
come  to  himself  like  one  awakening  out  of  a  nasty 
dream.  The  only  thing  that  kept  him  from  breaking 
down  was  the  hardest  and  most  assiduous  labour.  But 
who  can  fathom  the  unsearchable  depths  in  which  the 
secret  links  of  feeling  are  so  strangely  forged  together 
as  they  wTere  in  Master  Wacht's  soul  ?  His  abhorrence 
of  Sebastian  and  his  wicked  deed  faded  out  of  his  mind, 
wrhilst  the  picture  of  his  own  life,  ruined  by  Jonathan's 
love  for  Nanni,  deepened  in  colour  and  vividness  as  the 
days  went  by.  This  frame  of  mind  Master  Wacht  be- 
trayed in  many  short  exclamations — "  So  then  your 
brother  is  condemned  to  hard  labour  and  to  work  in 
chains  ! — That's  where  he  has  been  brought  by  his  at- 
tempted crime  against  you  —  It's  a  fine  thing  for  a 
brother  to  be  the  cause  of  making  his  own  brother  a 
convict — shouldn't  like  to  be  in  the  first  brother's  place 
— but  lawyers  think  differently  ;  they  want  justice,  that 
is,  they  want  to  play  wTith  a  lay  figure  and  dress  it  up 
and  give  it  whatever  name  they  please." 

Such  like  bitter,  and  even  incomprehensible  re- 
proaches, the  young  advocate  was  obliged  to  hear  from 


340 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


Master  Wacht,  and  to  hear  them  only  too  often.  Any 
attempt  at  rebutting  these  charges  would  have  been 
fruitless.  Accordingly  Jonathan  made  no  reply  ;  only 
often  when  his  heart  was  almost  distracted  by  the  old 
man's  fatal  delusion,  which  was  ruining  all  his  happi- 
ness, he  broke  out  in  his  exceeding  great  pain,  "  Father, 
father,  you  are  unjust  towards  me,  exasperatingly  un- 
just " 

One  day  when  the  family  were  assembled  at  the 
decorator  Leberfink's,  and  Jonathan  also  was  present, 
Master  Wacht  began  to  tell  how  somebody  had  been 
saying  that  Sebastian  Engelbrecht,  although  appre- 
hended as  a  criminal,  could  yet  make  good  by  action 
at  law  his  claim  against  Master  Wacht,  who  had  been 
his  guardian.  Then,  smiling  venomously  and  turning 
to  Jonathan,  he  went  on,  "  That  would  be  a  pretty 
case  for  a  young  advocate.  I  thought  you  might  take 
up  the  suit  ;  you  might  play  a  part  in  it  yourself  ; 
perhaps  I  have  cheated  you  as  well  ? "  This  made  the 
young  lawyer  start  to  his  feet ;  his  eyes  flashed,  his 
bosom  heaved  ;  he  seemed  all  of  a  sudden  to  be  quite 
a  different  man  ;  stretching  his  hand  towards  Heaven 
he  cried,  "No,  you  shall  no  longer  be  my  father  ;  you 
must  be  insane  to  sacrifice  without  scruple  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  the  most  loving  of  children  to  a 
ridiculous  prejudice.  You  will  never  see  me  again  ; 
I  will  go  and  at  once  accept  the  offer  which  the 
American  consul  made  to  me  to-day  ;  I  will  go  to 
America."  "Yes,"  replied  Wacht  filled  with  rage  and 
anger,  "  ay,  away  out  of  my  eyes,  brother  of  the  fratri- 
cide, who've  sold  your  soul  to  Satan."  Casting  upon 
Nanni,  who  was  half  fainting,  a  look  full  of  hopeless 
love  and  anguish  and  despair,  the  young  advocate  hur- 
riedly left  the  garden. 

It  was  remarked  earlier  in  the  course  of  this  story 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


341 


when  the  young  lawyer  threatened  to  shoot  himself  ä 
la  Werther,1  what  a  good  thing  it  was  that  the  indis- 
pensable pistol  was  in  very  many  cases  not  within  reach. 
And  here  it  will  be  just  as  useful  to  remark  that  the 
young  advocate  was  not  able,  to  his  own  good  be  it 
said,  to  embark  there  and  then  on  the  Regnitz  and  sail 
straight  away  to  Philadelphia.  Hence  it  was  that  his 
threat  to  leave  Bamberg  and  his  darling  Nanni  for  ever 
remained  still  unfulfilled,  even  when  at  last,  after  two 
years  more  had  elapsed,  the  wedding-day  of  Herr  Leber- 
fink, decorator  and  gilder,  was  come.  Leberfink  would 
have  been  inconsolable  at  this  unjust  postponement  of 
his  happiness,  although  the  delay  was  almost  a  matter 
of  necessity  after  the  terrible  events  which  had  fallen 
blow  after  blow  in  Wacht's  house,  had  it  not  afforded 
him  an  opportunity  to  decorate  over  again  in  deep  red 
and  appropriate  gold  the  ornamental  work  in  his  par- 
lour, which  had  before  been  gay  with  nice  light-blue 
and  silver,  for  he  had  picked  up  from  Rettelchen  that 
a  red  table,  red  chairs,  and  so  on,  would  be  more  in 
accordance  with  her  taste. 

When  the  happy  decorator  insisted  upon  seeing  the 
young  lawyer  at  his  wedding,  Master  Wacht  had  not 
offered  a  moment's  opposition  ;  and  the  young  lawyer 
— he  was  pleased  to  come.  It  may  be  imagined  with 
what  feelings  the  two  young  people  saw  each  other 
again,  for  since  that  terrible  moment  when  Jonathan 
had  left  the  garden  they  had  literally  not  set  eyes  upon 
each  other.  The  assembly  was  large  ;  but  not  a  single 
person  with  whom  they  were  on  a  friendly  footing 
fathomed  their  pain. 

Just  as  they  were  on  the  point  of  setting  out  for 


1  It  need  scarcely  be  said  this  refers  to  the  excessively  sentimental 
hero  of  Goethe's  Leiden  des  jungen  Werthers. 


342  MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 

church  Master  Wacht  received  a  thick  letter  ;  he  had 
read  no  more  than  a  few  lines  when  he  became  violently 
agitated  and  rushed  off  out  of  the  room,  not  a  little  to 
the  consternation  of  the  rest,  who  at  once  suspected 
some  fresh  misfortune.  Shortly  afterwards  Master 
Wacht  called  the  young  advocate  out.  When  they 
were  alone  together  in  the  Master's  own  room,  the 
latter,  vainly  endeavouring  to  conceal  his  excessive 
agitation,  began,  "  I've  got  the  most  extraordinary 
news  of  your  brother  ;  here  is  a  letter  from  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  prison  relating  fully  all  the  circumstances 
of  what  has  taken  place.  As  you  cannot  know  them 
all,  I  must  begin  at  the  beginning  and  tell  you  every- 
thing right  to  the  end  so  as  to  make  credible  to  you 
what  is  incredible  ;  but  time  presses."  So  saying, 
Master  Wacht  fixed  a  keen  glance  upon  the  advo- 
cate's face,  so  that  he  blushed  and  cast  down  his  eyes 
in  confusion.  "Yes,  yes,"  went  on  Master  Wacht, 
raising  his  voice,  "  you  don't  know  how  great  a  re- 
morse took  possession  of  your  brother  a  very  few  hours 
after  he  was  put  in  prison  ;  there  is  hardly  anybody 
whose  heart  has  been  more  torn  by  it.  You  don't  know 
how  his  attempt  at  murder  and  theft  has  prostrated  him. 
You  don't  know  how  that  in  mad  despair  he  prayed 
Heaven  day  and  night  either  to  kill  him  or  to  save 
him  that  he  might  henceforth  by  the  exercise  of  the 
strictest  virtue  wash  himself  pure  from  bloodguiltiness. 
You  don't  know  how  that  on  the  occasion  of  building 
a  large  wing  to  the  prison,  in  which  the  convicts  were 
employed  as  labourers,  your  brother  so  distinguished 
himself  as  a  clever  and  well-instructed  carpenter  that 
he  soon  filled  the  post  of  foreman  of  the  workmen, 
without  anybody's  noticing  how  it  came  about  so. 
You  don't  know  how  his  quiet  good  behaviour,  and 
his  modesty,  combined  with  the  decision  of  his  regen- 


MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


343 


erate  mind,  made  everybody  his  friend.  All  this  you 
do  not  know,  and  so  T  am  telling  it  you.  But  to  go 
on.  The  Prince-bishop  has  pardoned  your  brother ; 
he  has  become  a  master.  But  how  could  all  this  be 
done  without  a  supply  of  money?"  "I  know,"  said 
the  young  advocate  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  know  that  you, 
my  good  father,  have  sent  money  to  the  prison  author- 
ities every  month,  in  order  that  they  might  keep  my 
brother  separate  from  the  other  prisoners  and  find  him 
better  accommodation  and  better  food.    Later  on  you 

sent  him  materials  for  his  trade"   Then  Master 

Wacht  stepped  close  up  to  the  young  advocate,  took 
him  by  both  arms,  and  said  in  a  voice  that  vacillated 
in  a  way  that  cannot  be  described  between  delight, 
sadness,  and  pain,  "  But  would  that  alone  have  helped 
Sebastian  to  honour  again,  to  freedom,  and  his  civil 
rights,  and  to  property,  however  strongly  his  funda- 
mental virtuous  qualities  had  sprung  up  again?  An 
unknown  philanthropist,  who  must  take  an  especially 
warm  interest  in  Sebastian's  fate,  has  deposited  ten 

thousand   Marge'   thalers  with   the   court,   to  "  

Master  Wacht  could  not  speak  any  further  owing  to 
his  violent  emotion  ;  he  drew  the  young  advocate  im- 
petuously to  his  heart,  crying,  though  he  could  only 
get  out  his  words  with  difficulty,  "Advocate,  help  me 
to  penetrate  to  the  deep  import  of  law  such  as  lives  in 
your  breast,  and  that  I  may  stand  before  the  Eternal 
Bar  of  justice  as  you  will  one  day  stand  before  it. — 
And  yet,"  he  continued  after  a  pause  of  some  seconds, 
releasing  the  young  lawyer,  "  and  yet,  my  dear  Jona- 
than, if  Sebastian  now  comes  back  as  a  good  and  in- 
dustrious citizen  and  reminds  me  of  my  pledged  word, 

and  Nanni"   "Then  I  will  bear  my  trouble  till  it 

kills  me,"  said  the  young  advocate;  "I  will  flee  to 
America."    "Stay  here,"  cried  Master  Wacht  in  an  en- 


344  MASTER  JOHANNES  WACHT. 


thusiastic  burst  of  joy  and  delight,  "stay  here,  son  of  my 
heart !  Sebastian  is  going  to  marry  a  girl  whom  he 
formerly  deceived  and  deserted.    Nanni  is  yours." 

Once  more  the  Master  threw  his  arms  around  Jona- 
than's neck,  saying,  "  My  lad,  I  feel  like  a  schoolboy 
before  you,  and  should  like  to  beg  your  pardon  for  all 
the  blame  I  have  put  upon  you,  and  all  the  injustice 
I  have  done  you.  But  let  us  say  no  more  ;  other 
people  are  waiting  for  us."  Therewith  Master  Wacht 
took  hold  of  the  young  lawyer  and  pulled  him  along 
into  the  room  where  the  wedding  guests  were  assem- 
bled ;  there  he  placed  himself  and  Jonathan  in  the 
midst  of  the  company,  and  said,  raising  his  voice  and 
speaking  in  a  solemn  tone,  "  Before  we  proceed  to 
celebrate  the  sacred  rite  I  invite  you  all,  my  honest 
friends,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  you  too,  my  virtuous 
maidens  and  young  men,  six  weeks  hence  to  a  similar 
festival  in  my  house  ;  for  here  I  introduce  to  you  Herr 
Jonathan  Engelbrecht,  the  advocate,  to  whom  I  here- 
with solemnly  betroth  my  youngest  daughter,  Nanni." 
The  lovers  sank  into  each  other's  arms.  A  breath  of 
the  profoundest  astonishment  passed  over  the  whole 
assembly  ;  but  good  old  Andreas,  holding  his  little 
three-cornered  carpenter's  cap  before  his  breast,  said 
softly,  "A  man's  heart  is  a  wonderful  thing  ;  but  true, 
honest  faith  overcomes  the  base  and  even  sinful  reso- 
luteness of  a  hardened  spirit  ;  and  all  things  turn  out 
at  last  for  the  best,  just  as  the  good  God  wishes  them 
to  do." 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE? 


LIKE  many  others  whose  pens  have  been  employed  in  author- 
_^  ship,  the  subject  of  this  notice,  Ernst  Theodor  Wilhelm 3 
Hoffmann,  led  a  very  chequered  life,  the  various  facts  and  inci- 
dents of  which  throw  a  good  deal  of  light  upon  his  writings. 

Hoffmann  was  born  at  Königsberg  in  Prussia  on  the  24th 
January,  1776. 3  His  parents  were  very  ill-assorted,  and  led 
such  an  unhappy  life  that  they  parted  in  young  Ernst's  third 
year.  His  father,  who  was  in  the  legal  profession,  was  a  man 
of  considerable  talent  and  of  acute  intellect,  but  irregular  and 
wild  in  his  habits  and  given  to  reprehensible  practices.  His 
mother,  on  the  contrary,  the  daughter  of  Consistorialrath 
Dorffer,  had  been  trained  up  on  the  strictest  moral  principles, 
and  to  habits  of  orderliness  and  propriety  ;  and  to  her  regard 
for  outward  conformity  to  old-established  forms  and  conven- 
tional routine  was  added  a  weak  and  ailing  condition  of  body, 
which  made  her  for  the  most  part  a  confirmed  invalid.  When, 
in  1782,  the  elder  Hoffmann  was  promoted  to  the  dignity  of 
judge  and  transferred  to  a  criminal  court  at  Insterburg  (Prus- 

1  The  chief  sources  for  this  biographical  notice  have  been  E.  T.  A. 
Hoffmann's  Leben  und  Nachlass,  von  y.  G.  Hitzig,  herausg.  von  Micheline 
Hoff?nann,  geb.  Rorer,  5  vols.,  Stuttgart,  1839  ;  Erinnerungen  aus  meinem 
Leben,  von  Z.  Funck  [C.  Kunz],  Leipsic,  1836  ;  and  various  minor  essays 
and  papers. 

2  Later  in  life  he  adopted  the  name  of  "  Amadeus  "  instead  of  Wil- 
helm,'' out  of  admiration  for  Wolfgang  Amadeus  Mozart,  the  great  musi- 
cian (see  Erinng.,  pp.  77-80). 

8  Another  account  (see  H.  Döring's  article  "  Hoffmann,"  in  Ersch  und 
Gruber's  Allgem.  Encyk.}  states  21st  Jan.,  1778.  The  date  in  the  text  is 
the  one,  however,  that  is  generally  accepted,  and  now  without  question  ; 
it  is  the  one  confirmed  by  Hoffmann  himself  (cf.  Letter  15  in  Leben). 


346 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


sia),  Ernst  was  taken  into  the  house  of  his  maternal  grand- 
mother ;  and  his  father  appears  never  to  have  troubled  him- 
self further  either  about  him  or  his  elder  brother,  who  afterwards 
took  to  evil  ways.  The  brothers  in  all  probability  never  met 
again,  though  an  unfinished  letter,  dated  ioth  July,  1817,  found 
amongst  Hoffmann's  papers  after  his  death,  was  evidently 
written  to  his  brother  in  reply  to  one  received  from  him  request- 
ing pecuniary  assistance. 

In  his  grandmother's  house  young  Hoffmann  spent  his  boy- 
hood and  youth.  The  members  of  the  household  were  four, 
the  grandmother,  her  son,  her  two  daughters,  of  whom  one 
was  the  boy's  invalid  mother.  The  old  lady,  owing  to  her 
great  age,  was  also  virtually  an  invalid  ;  so  that  both  she  and 
her  daughter  scarcely  ever  left  their  room,  and  hence  their  in- 
fluence upon  young  Ernst's  education  and  training  was  prac- 
tically nil.  His  uncle,  however,  after  an  abortive  attempt  to 
follow  the  law,  had  settled  down  to  a  quiet  vegetative  sort  of 
existence,  which  he  regulated  strictly  according  to  fixed  rules 
and  methodical  procedure  ;  and  these  he  imposed  more  or  less 
upon  the  household.  Justizrath  Otto  (or  Ottchen,  as  his  mother 
continued  to  call  him  to  her  life's  end),  though  acting  as  a  dead 
weight  upon  his  high-spirited,  quick-witted  nephew's  intel- 
lectual development,  by  his  efforts  to  mould  him  to  his  own 
course  of  life  and  his  own  unpliant  habits  of  thought,  neverthe- 
less planted  certain  seeds  in  the  boy's  mind  which  proved  of 
permanent  service  to  him  throughout  all  his  subsequent  career. 
To  this  precise  and  order-loving  uncle  he  owed  his  first 
thorough  grounding  in  the  elements  of  music,  and  also  his 
persevering  industry  and  sense  of  method  and  precision.  As 
uncle  and  nephew  shared  the  same  sitting-room  and  the  same 
sleeping-chamber,  and  as  the  former  would  never  suffer  any 
departure  from  the  established  routine  of  things,  the  boy  Ernst 
began  not  only  to  look  forward  to  the  one  afternoon  a  week 
when  Otto  went  out  to  make  his  calls,  but  also  to  study  nar- 
rowly his  uncle's  habits,  and  to  play  upon  his  weaknesses  and 
turn  them  to  his  own  advantage,  so  that  by  the  time  he  was 
twelve  years  old  he  was  quite  an  adept  at  mystifying  the  staid 
old  gentleman.  His  aunt,  an  unmarried  lady,  was  cheerful, 
witty,  and  full  of  pleasant  gaiety  ;  she  was  the  only  one  who 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


347' 


understood  and  appreciated  her  clever  nephew  ;  indeed  she 
was  so  fond  of  him,  and  humoured  him  to  such  an  extent,  that 
she  is  said  to  have  spoiled  him.  It  was  to  her  he  poured  out 
all  his  childish  troubles  and  all  his  boyish  confidences  and 
weaknesses.  Her  love  he  repaid  with  faithful  affection,  and  he 
has  memorialised  it  in  a  touching  way  in  the  character  of 
"  Tante  Füsschen  "  in  Kater  Murr  (Pt.  I.),  where  also  other 
biographical  details  of  this  period  may  be  read.  Of  his  poor 
mother,  feeble  in  body  and  in  mind  alike,  Hoffmann  only 
spoke  unwillingly,  but  always  with  deep  respect  mingled  with 
sadness. 

Two  other  persons  must  be  mentioned  as  having  exercised  a 
lasting  influence  upon  his  early  life.  One  of  these  was  an  old 
great-uncle,  Justizrath  Vöthöry,  brother  of  both  his  grand- 
mothers, and  a  gentleman  of  Hungarian  origin.  This  excellent 
man  was  retired  from  all  business,  with  the  exception  that  he 
continued  to  act  as  justiciary  for  the  estates  of  certain  well- 
tried  friends.  He  used  to  visit  the  various  properties  at  stated 
seasons  of  the  year,  and  was  always  a  welcome  guest  ;  for  this 
"  hero  of  olden  times  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,"  as  Wili- 
bald  Alexis  called  him,  was  the  V —  who  figures  so  genially  in 
Das  Majorat  ("  The  Entail  ").  The  old  gentleman  once  took 
his  great-nephew  with  him  on  one  of  these  trips,  and  to  it  we 
are  indebted  for  this  master-piece  of  Hoffmann.  The  other 
person  who  gave  a  bent  to  young  Ernst's  mind  was  Dr.  Wan- 
nowski,  the  head  of  the  German  Reformed  School  in  Königs- 
berg, where  the  boy  was  sent  in  his  sixth  or  seventh  year. 
Wannowski,  who  possessed  the  faculty  of  awakening  slumber- 
ing talent  in  his  pupils,  and  attracting  them  to  himself,  enjoyed 
the  friendship  and  intercourse  of  Kant,  Hippel  (the  elder), 
Scheffner,  Hamann,  and  others,  and  might  perhaps  lay  claim 
to  be  called  a  Prussian  Dr.  Arnold,  owing  to  the  many  illus- 
trious pupils  he  turned  out. 

During  the  first  seven  years  of  his  school-days,  young  Hoff- 
mann was  in  nowise  distinguished  above  his  school-fellows 
either  for  industry  or  for  quickness  of  parts.  But  when  he 
reached  his  thirteenth  or  fourteenth  year,  his  taste  for  both 
music  and  painting  was  awakened.  His  liking  for  these  two 
arts  was  so  genuine  and  sincere,  and  consequently  his  progress 


343 


BIO  GRAPHICAL  NO  TICK. 


in  them  so  rapid,  that  he  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  child- 
wonder.  He  would  sit  down  at  a  piano  and  play  improvisa- 
tions and  other  compositions  of  his  own  creation,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  all  who  heard  him,  for  his  performances,  though 
somewhat  fantastic,  were  not  wanting  in  talent  and  originality, 
and  his  diminutive  stature  made  him  appear  some  years 
younger  than  he  really  was.  In  drawing  he  early  showed  a 
decided  inclination  for  caricature,  and  in  this  his  quickness  of 
perception  and  accuracy  in  reproduction  proved  of  permanent 
service  to  him.  Later  he  endeavoured  to  improve  himself  both 
in  theory  and  in  practice  in  higher  styles  also  :  in  the  former 
by  diligent  study  of  Winckelamann,  and  in  the  latter  by  copy- 
ing the  models  of  the  art  treasures  of  Herculaneum  preserved 
in  the  Royal  Library. 

In  his  eleventh  year  Hoffmann  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Theodor  von  Hippel,  nephew  of  T.  G.  Hippel,  author  of  Die 
Lebensläufe  in  aufsteigender  Linie,  a  boy  one  month  older  than 
himself.  The  acquaintance  ripened  into  a  warm  fast  friend- 
ship when  the  two  boys  recognised  each  other  again  at  the 
same  school,  and  they  continued  faithful  devoted  friends  until 
the  day  of  Hoffmann's  death.  What  tended  principally  to  knit 
them  together  was  the  similarity  and  yet  difference  in  their 
bringing  up  and  family  relations.  Both  grew  up  without  the 
society  of  brothers  or  sisters  or  playfellows  ;  but  whilst  Hoff- 
mann was  a  son  of  the  town,  Hippel's  early  days  had  been 
spent  in  the  country.  In  another  respect,  too,  they  presented 
a  striking  contrast  in  behaviour  ;  Hoffmann's  chief  delight  was 
to  mystify  and  tease  his  uncle  Otto,  but  Hippel  was  most 
scrupulous  in  paying  to  all  the  proper  meed  of  respect  which 
he  conceived  he  owed  them.  Once  when  Hippel  reproached 
his  friend  about  his  behaviour  towards  his  uncle,  young  Hoff- 
mann replied,  "  But  think  what  relatives  fate  has  blessed  me 
with  !  If  I  only  had  a  father  and  an  uncle  like  yours  such 
things  would  never  come  into  my  head."  This  saying  is  sig- 
nificant for  the  understanding  of  the  early  stages  of  Hoffmann's 
intellectual  development. 

The  bonds  of  inclination  and  natural  liking  were  drawn 
still  closer  by  an  idea  of  uncle  Otto's.  It  was  arranged  that 
young  Hippel  should  spend  the  Wednesday  afternoons  (when 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE.  349 


the  Justizrath  went  out  to  make  his  round  of  visits  amongst 
his  acquaintances),  along  with  his  friend  in  studying  together, 
principally  the  classics.  And  Saturday  afternoons  were  also 
to  be  devoted  to  the  same  duties  whenever  practicable.  But, 
as  might  very  well  be  expected,  the  classics  soon  gave  way  to 
other  books,  such  as  Rousseau's  Confessions  and  Wiegleb's 
Natürliche  Magie j  1  and  these  in  turn  were  forced  to  yield  to 
such  pastimes  as  music,  drawing,  mummeries,  boyish  games, 
masquerades,  and  even  more  pretentious  adventures  out  in  the 
garden,  such  as  mimic  chivalric  contests,  construction  of  un- 
derground passages,  &c.  The  boys  also  discovered  common 
ground  in  their  desire  to  cultivate  their  minds  by  poetry  and 
other  reading.  The  last  two  years  at  school  were  most  bene- 
ficial and  productive  in  shaping  Hoffmann's  mind  ;  he  acquired 
a  taste  for  classics  and  excited  the  attention  of  his  teachers  by 
his  artistic  talents,  his  graphic  powers  of  representation  being 
noticeable  even  at  this  early  age.  During  this  time  also  he 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  the  painter  Matuszewski,  whom 
he  introduces  byname  in  his  tale  Der  Artushof  ("Arthur's 
Hall  "). 

When  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  old  Hoffmann  conceived 
his  first  boyish  affection,  which  only  deserves  mention  as 
giving  occasion  to  a  frequent  utterance  of  his  at  this  time,  that 
illustrates  one  of  the  most  striking  sides  of  his  character.  It 
appears  that  the  young  lady  who  was  the  object  of  his  fancied 
passion  either  refused  to  notice  his  homage  or  else  laughed  it 
to  scorn,  for  he  remarked  to  his  friend  with  great  warmth  of 
feeling,  ft  Since  I  can't  interest  her  with  a  pleasing  exterior,  I 
wish  I  were  a  perfect  image  of  ugliness,  so  that  I  might  strike 
her  attention,  and  so  make  her  at  least  look  at  me." 


1  These  two  books,  together  with  Schubert's  Symbolik  des  Traums, 
were  favourites  with  him  throughout  life.  In  his  youth  he  was  a  most 
diligent  student  of  the  new  literature  of  his  native  country  ;  English  he 
also  read  to  a  large  extent,  Shakespearian  quotations  being  very  fre- 
quent in  his  letters  ;  and  we  find  the  names  of  Sterne,  Swift,  Smollett, 
&c.  Later  in  life  he  hardly  read  anything  unless  it  were  exceptionally 
good,  and  then  only  when  recommended  to  do  so  by  his  friends.  Po- 
litical papers  he  never  read,  and  scarcely  ever  criticisms  on  his  own 
works. 


35o 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


The  beginning  of  Hoffmann's  university  career — he  matricu- 
lated at  Königsberg  on  27th  March,  1792 — offers  nothing  of 
special  interest.  He  decided  to  study  jurisprudence.  In  mak- 
ing this  decision  he  was  doubtless  influenced  by  the  family 
connections  and  the  traditional  calling  of  the  male  members 
of  the  family.  As  already  remarked,  his  father,  his  uncle,  and 
his  great-uncle  had  all  followed  the  profession  of  law,  and  he 
had  another  uncle  Dörffer  in  the  same  profession,  who  occu- 
pied a  position  of  some  influence  at  Glogau  in  Silesia.  But  it 
is  also  certain  that  he  was  determined  to  this  decision — it  can- 
not be  called  choice — from  the  desire  to  make  himself  inde- 
pendent of  the  family  in  Königsberg  as  soon  as  he  could  con- 
trive to  do  so,  in  order  that  he  might  free  himself  from  the 
shackles  and  galling  unpleasantness  of  the  untoward  relations 
in  life  to  which  he  was  there  subject.  But  he  was  devoted 
heart  and  soul  to  art — to  music  and  painting.  As  the  studies 
of  the  two  friends,  Hoffmann  and  Hippel,  were  different,  they 
necessarily  did  not  see  so  much  of  each  other  as  previously  ; 
but  once  a  week  during  the  winter  months  they  devoted  a  night 
to  mutual  outpourings  of  the  things  that  were  in  them — the  as- 
pirations, hopes,  dreams,  and  plans  for  the  future,  &c,  such 
as  imaginative  youths  are  wont  to  cherish  and  indulge  in.  These 
meetings  were  strictly  confined  to  their  two  selves  ;  no  third 
was  admitted.  Their  rules  were  one  bottle  of  wine  for  the 
whole  evening,  and  the  conversation  to  be  carried  on  in  rhymed 
verses  ;  and  Hoffmann  we  find  looking  back  upon  these  hours 
with  glad  remembrance  even  in  the  full  flush  of  his  manhood 
and  fame  :  even  on  his  last  sad  birthday,  a  few  months  before 
his  death,  he  dwells  upon  them  with  fond  delight. 

Whilst,  however,  devoting  himself  enthusiastically  to  the 
pursuit  of  art,  he  did  not  neglect  his  more  serious  studies. 
He  made  good  and  steady  progress  in  the  knowledge  of  law ; 
and  he  also  gave  lessons  in  music.  It  was  whilst  officiating  in 
this  latter  capacity  that  his  heart  was  stirred  by  its  first  serious 
passion — a  passion  which  left  an  indelible  impress  upon  all  his 
future  life.  He  fell  in  love  with  a  charming  girl,  who  had  a 
fine  taste  and  true  sentiment  in  art  matters,  but  who  was  sepa- 
rated from  her  admirer  by  an  impassable  barrier  of  rank  ;  but 
although  her  social  position  was  far  above  Hoffmann's,  yet  she 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


351 


returned  warmly  his  pure  and  ardent  affection.  Hoffmann, 
however,  never  disguised  from  himself  the  hopelessness  of  his 
love  ;  and  the  fact  that  it  was  so  hopeless  embittered  all  the 
rest  of  his  time  in  Königsberg,  until  he  left  it  in  June,  1796,  for  a 
legal  appointment  at  Great  Glogau  in  Silesia. 

As  these  years  seem  to  have  been  mainly  instrumental  in 
forming  his  character  and  shaping  its  outlines  and  giving  depth 
and  strength  to  its  chief  features,  it  is  desirable  to  dwell  for  a 
moment  upon  the  principal  currents  which  at  this  time  poured 
their  influences  upon  him.  By  nature  of  a  genial  and  gay 
temperament,  gifted  with  an  acute  perception,  which  he  had 
further  trained  in  sharpness  and  accuracy,  endowed  with  no 
small  share  of  talent  and  with  an  ardent  love  for  art,  ambitious, 
vain  in  some  respects,  full  of  high  spirits,  and  with  a  keen 
sense  of  humour,  and  not  devoid  of  originality,  he  was  daily 
chafed  and  galled  in  the  depressing  atmosphere  of  his  home 
relations.  He  felt  how  illogical  was  the  rigid  methodicity,  how 
unreasonable  the  arbitrary  routine,  how  absurd  the  restrictions 
and  restraints  of  his  uncle's  household  regulations  ;  he  was 
eager  to  be  quit  of  them,  to  turn  his  back  upon  them  ;  he  was 
anxious  to  find  a  congenial  field  for  his  powers — a  field  where 
he  could  turn  his  accomplishments  and  genius  to  good  account. 
The  only  way  in  which  he  could  hope  to  do  so  at  present,  at 
least  for  some  years  to  come,  was  by  pursuing  a  legal  career, 
and  law  he  had  no  inclination  for.  He  says,  in  a  letter  to  Hip- 
pel,  dated  25th  Nov.,  1795,  "  If  it  depended  upon  myself  alone 
I  should  be  a  musical  composer,  and  I  have  hopes  that  I  could 
do  something  great  in  that  line  ;  as  for  the  one  I  have  now 
chosen,  I  shall  be  a  bungler  in  it  as  long  as  I  live."  He  gradu- 
ally came  to  live  upon  a  strained  and  barely  tolerable  footing 
with  his  uncle,  since  as  he  grew  older  his  tricks  and  ironrcal 
behaviour  towards  little  Otto  assumed  a  more  pronounced 
character,  and  stirred  up  in  the  old  gentleman's  mind  feelings 
of  suspicion  against  his  unmanageable  nephew.  In  these  cir- 
cumstances we  may  easily  discern  the  germs  of  a  dissatisfac- 
tion not  only  with  his  lot  in  life  but  also  with  himself. 

Next  came  the  fact  of  his  hopeless  love  which  has  just  been 
mentioned.  And  another  and  no  less  potent  cause  which  tend- 
ed to  deepen  and  intensify  this  spirit  of  inward  dissatisfaction 


352 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


was  the  delay  that  occurred  between  his  passing  his  entrance 
examination  into  the  legal  profession  in  July,  1795,  and  his  ap- 
pointment to  a  definite  post  of  active  duty  in  June,  1796.  To 
be  compelled  to  wear  out  his  independent,  ambitious  heart  in 
forced  inactivity  must  have  been  galling  in  the  extreme,  espe- 
cially when  it  is  remembered  how  eagerly  he  was  longing  to 
shake  himself  free  from  the  relations  amidst  which  he  had 
grown  up,  and  his  no  less  earnest  desire  to  get  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  passion,  or  at  any  rate  the  object  of  the  passion, 
that  was  gnawing  at  his  very  heart-strings.  To  an  energetic 
spirit,  longing  for  a  useful  sphere  of  activity,  hardly  anything 
can  be  more  fruitful  as  a  source  of  unhappiness  than  enforced 
idleness.  And  this  sentiment  Hoffmann  gives  frequent  utter- 
ance to  in  his  letters  at  this  period. 

During  these  same  months  he  cultivated  his  mind  by  the 
perusal  of  the  works  of  such  writers  as  Jean  Paul,  Schiller,  and 
Goethe,  the  intellectual  giants  upon  whom  the  eyes  of  Ger- 
many were  at  that  time  fixed  in  wonder.  But  this  course  of 
reading,  instead  of  counteracting,  rather  encouraged  a  native 
leaning  towards  poetic  dreaming  and  sentimentality.  In  a 
letter  to  Hippel,  dated  10th  Jan.,  1796,  he  even  says,  "  I  can- 
not possibly  demand  that  she  [the  lady  he  loyed]  should  love 
me  to  the  same  unmeasured  extent  of  passionate  devotion  that 
has  turned  my  head — and  this  torments  me.  ...  I  can 
never  leave  her  ;  she  might  weep  for  me  for  twenty -four  hours 
and  then  forget  me — I  should  never  forget  tier."  There  was 
yet  another  cause  or  series  of  causes  which  co-operated  with 
those  mentioned  above  to  increase  the  distracted  and  agi- 
tated condition  of  his  heart.  It  has  been  already  stated  more 
than  once  that  he  was  a  diligent  student  of  music  and  painting. 
These  formed  his  recreation  from  the  severe  and  dry  study  of 
law-books  ;  but  to  these  two  arts  he  now  added  the  fascination 
of  literary  composition,  and  wrote  two  novels,  which  he  entitled 
Comaro  and  Der  Geheimnissvolle.  The  former  was  rejected 
by  a  publisher,  who  had  at  first  held  out  some  hopes  of  being 
able  to  accept  it,  on  the  ground  that  its  author  was  unknown. 
Besides  this,  the  productions  of  his  brush  failed  to  sell.  Hence 
fresh  sources  of  disappointment  and  vexation. 

Through  all  this,  however,  even  in  his  darkest  moods  and 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


353 


most  desperate  moments,  he  was  upheld  by  the  feelings  and 
sentiments  associated  with  his  friendship  for  his  unshaken 
friend  Hippel.  To  him  he  poured  out  all  his  troubles  in  a 
series  of  letters, ]  which  gave  a  most  graphic  account  of  his 
mental  condition  at  this  period.  He  led  a  very  retired  life, 
hardly  seeing  anybody  ;  he  calls  himself  an  anchorite,  and 
states  he  was  living  apart  from  all  the  world,  seeking  to  find 
food  for  contemplation  and  reflection  in  his  own  self.  He  also 
fostered,  perhaps  unconscious  to  himself,  high  poetic  aspira- 
tions, and  also  those  extravagant  dreams  of  friendship  which 
were  so  fashionable  in  the  days  of  "Posa"  and  "Werther" 
and  Wieland  ;  "  his  heart  was  never  more  susceptible  to 
what  is  good,"  and  "  his  bosom  never  swelled  with  nobler 
thoughts,"  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters.  Then  he  goes  on  to 
describe  the  "  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable  "  surroundings  in 
the  midst  of  which  he  was  confined.  "  Round  about  me  here 
it  is  icy  cold,  as  in  Nova  Zembla,  whilst  I  am  burning  and 
being  consumed  by  the  fiery  breath  within  me,"  he  says  in 
another  place.  The  violence  of  his  inner  conflict,  of  his  heart- 
torture  and  unhappiness,  finds  vent  in  a  wild  burst  in  the  letter 
before  quoted  of  ioth  Jan.,  1796  (and  also  in  others).  He  says: — 

"  Many  a  time  I  think  it's  all  over  with  me,  and  if  it  were  not  for  my 
uncle'5  little  musical  evenings.  I  don't  know  what  really  would  become 
of  me.  .  .  .  Let  me  stay  here  and  eat  my  heart  out.  .  .  .  Noth- 
ing can  be  made  of  me,  that  you  will  see  quite  well.  ...  I  am  ruined 
for  everything  ;  I  have  been  cheated  in  everything,  and  in  a  most  exas- 
perating way."  .  .  .  Again,  "If  I  thought  it  possible  that  this  fran- 
tic imp,  my  fancy,  at  which  I  laugh  right  sardonically  in  my  calmer  mo- 
ments, could  ever  strain  the  fibres  of  my  brain  or  could  touch  the  feelers 
of  my  emotional  power,  I  should  wish  to  cry  with  Shakespeare's  Falstaff, 
1  I  would  it  were  bedtime,  and  all  well  ;  '  "  .  .  .  and  "lam  accused 
by  the  Santa  Hermandad  of  my  own  conscience."  And  in  another  letter 
he  unbares  the  root  of  all  his  troubles  in  the  exclamation,  "  Oh  !  that  I 
had  a  mother  like  you." 

Tearing  himself  away  from  his  lady-love  with  a  violent 
wrench,  Hoffmann  left  Königsberg  in  a  sort  of  u  dazed  or  in- 
toxicated state,"  his  heart  bleeding  with  the  anguish  of  part- 


1  That  is,  after  Hippel  had  completed  his  academic  career,  and  left 
Königsberg. 

Vol.  II.— 23 


354 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


ing.  He  arrived  at  Glogau  on  15th  June,  and  met  with  a  very- 
friendly  reception  from  his  uncle  and  his  uncle's  family,  which 
consisted  of  his  wife  and  a  son  and  two  daughters.  But  though 
they  appear  to  have  exerted  themselves  to  make  the  unhappy 
youth  comfortable,  his  heart  and  mind  were  too  much  occupied 
with  the  dear  one  he  had  left  behind  for  him  to  derive  full  ben- 
efit from  their  kind  and  well-meant  attentions.  In  the  first 
letter  he  wrote  to  his  friend  from  his  new  home  he  says,  "  As 
Hamlet  advised  his  mother,  I  have  thrown  away  the  worser 
part  of  my  heart  to  live  the  purer  with  the  other  half.  .  .  . 
Am  I  happy,  you  ask  ?  I  was  never  more  unhappy."  In 
other  letters,  written  some  months  later,  he  writes,  "  I  am 
tired  of  railing  against  Destiny  and  myself.  .  .  .  There 
are  moments  in  which  I  despair  of  all  that  is  good,  in  which  I 
feel  it  has  been  enjoined  upon  me  to  work  against  everything 
that  makes  a  vaunt  of  specious  happiness."  But  he  took  no 
manful  and  resolute  steps  to  battle  against  his  unhappy  state  ; 
he  continued  to  correspond  with  the  lady  of  his  affections,  to 
gaze  upon  her  portrait,  to  write  to  his  friend  about  her,  and  to 
dwell  upon  the  past,  the  hours  he  had  spent  in  her  society. 
His  relatives,  though  treating  him  with  all  kindness,  would 
seem  to  have  endeavoured  to  reason  him  out  of  his  passion, 
since  after  he  had  been  seme  months  in  Glogau,  he  complains 
that  those  who  had  at  first  been  all  love  and  sympathy  were 
now  cold  and  reserved  towards  him  ;  he  was  misunderstood  ; 
he  was  tormented  with  ennui,  and  looked  with  contempt  (partly 
amused  and  partly  bitter)  upon  the  childish  follies  and  fop- 
peries, the  trifling  and  dandling  with  serious  feelings  and  af- 
fections, of  the  folks  amongst  whom  he  lived,  who  spent  their 
time  in  "  hunting  after  flies  and  bomnots."  During  these 
months,  however,  and  during  the  course  of  the  two  years  he 
spent  in  Silesia,  he  penetrated  deeper  into  the  secret  consti- 
tution of  his  own  nature  than  he  ever  did  before  or  after  :  we 
find  him  confessing  to  his  hot  passionate  disposition  and  his 
quickness  to  take  offence,  and  making  mention  of  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  him  since  the  days  of  his  early  friend- 
ship with  Hippel — he  was  become  hypochondriacal,  dissatisfied 
with  himself,  ready  to  kick  against  destiny,  and  prone  to  as- 
sume a  defiant  attitude  towards  her  and  to  blame  her  and  call 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


355 


her  to  account  for  her  treatment  of  him  ;  then  again  he  was 
melancholy  and  sad  and  sentimental,  using  in  his  letters  ex- 
pressions built  up  after  Jean  Paul's  style,  and  indulging  in 
gushing  protestations  of  unalterable  friendship.  But  then  this 
was  the  age  of  exaggerated  friendships.  His  humour  and 
joviality  did  not,  however,  altogether  desert  him  ;  he  made 
himself  a  welcome  guest  of  an  evening,  and  carried  out  amus- 
ing pranks  with  his  merry  cousins. 

In  the  spring  of  1797  Hoffmann  accompanied  his  uncle  on 
a  journey  to  Königsberg,  where  he  again  saw  the  young  girl 
he  loved,  but  only  to  open  up  again  all  the  anguish  of  the 
wounds  that  had  never  yet  fully  healed.  On  his  return  to 
Glogau  things  continued  much  as  they  were  previous  to  his 
visit  to  his  native  town. 

Of  his  two  favourite  arts,  painting  seems  to  have  occupied 
him  more  than  music  just  at  this  period.  Probably  this  was 
due  to  the  influence  of  the  painter  Molinari,  whose  acquaint- 
ance he  made  before  he  had  been  six  months  in  Glogau  ;  and 
besides  this  man,  whom  he  styles  a  "  child  of  misfortune  "  like 
himself,  he  also  enjoyed  the  society  of  Holbein,  dramatic  poet 
and  actor  ;  of  Julius  von  Voss,  a  well-known  writer  ;  and  of 
the  Countess  Lichtenau,  formerly  favourite  of  Frederick  Wil- 
liam IL  of  Prussia,  but  at  that  time  a  sort  of  prisoner  in  the 
garrison  at  Glogau.1  The  serious  study  of  law  he  also  prose- 
cuted most  assiduously,  and  to  such  good  purpose  that  in  June, 
1798,  he  was  able  to  surmount  successfully  his  second  or  "  re- 
ferendary" examination.  But  for  this  earnest  and  persevering 
labour  there  was  a  special  incitement — a  particular  cause. 
However  contradictory  it  may  sound,  he  was  already  engaged 
in  another  love  affair  ;  this  time  with  the  lady  who  afterwards 
became  his  wife,  Maria  Thekla  Michaelina  Rorer,  of  Polish 
extraction.  The  beginning  of  his  intimacy  with  her  dates, 
strange  to  say,  from  the  early  part  of  the  year  1797,  just  pre- 
vious to  his  journey  to  Königsberg  with  his  uncle.  Soon  after 
'passing  his  "  referendary"  examination,  he  was  moved  to  the 
Supreme  Court  at  Berlin,  as  a  consequence  of  the  promotion 


*That  is,  after  the  king's  death  in  1797.  She  afterwards  married  the 
Holbein  here  mentioned. 


556 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


of  his  uncle  to  be  geheimer  0be7'tribunalsrath  in  the  capital. 
But  before  proceeding  to  Berlin  to  take  up  his  residence  there, 
Hoffmann  made  a  tour  through  the  Silesian  mountains,  partly 
with  an  eccentric  friend  of  his  uncle's  and  partly  alone,  finish- 
ing up  the  trip  by  an  inspection  of  the  art  treasures  of  Dresden, 
where  he  was  specially  struck  with  works  by  Correggio  and 
Battoni  (mentioned  in  Der  Sandmann,  &c.)  and  Raphael.  One 
very  remarkable  incident  which  happened  to  him  during  this 
trip  must  not  be  passed  over  in  silence.  He  was  induced  to 
play  at  faro  at  a  certain  place  where  he  stopped,  and  though 
he  was  perfectly  unskilled  in  the  game,  yet  he  had  such  an 
extraordinary  run  of  good  luck,  that  he  rose  from  the  table 
with  what  was  for  him  a  small  fortune.  Next  morning  the 
event  made  so  deep  and  powerful  an  impression  upon  his  ex- 
citable temperament — his  mind  was  so  awed  by  the  magnitude 
of  his  winnings — that  he  vowed  never  to  touch  a  card  again  so 
long  as  he  lived  ;  and  this  vow  he  faithfully  kept.  In  the  tale 
Spielerglück  (u  Gambler's  Luck  ")  we  find  the  incident  recorded 
in  the  experiences  of  Baron  Siegfried  ;  and  in  the  third  volume 
of  the  Seraßio?isbrüder  (Part  VI.)  he  relates  some  of  the  very 
amusing  eccentricities  of  his  travelling  companion,  which  are 
too  long  to  be  given  here. 

We  next  find  Hoffmann  in  Berlin,  where,  whilst  the  impres- 
sions which  he  had  brought  back  with  him  from  his  excursion 
were  still  fresh  upon  his  mind,  he  began  to  revel  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  picture-galleries  and  other  opportunities  for  culti- 
vating his  taste  in  art.  Here  he  saw  really  how  little  his  own 
skill  in  painting  was  developed  ;  he  threw  away  colours,  and 
took  up  drawing  again  like  a  beginner.  His  position  in  a  pro- 
fessional regard  now  took  a  more  favourable  turn.  Freiherr 
von  Schleinitz,  the  first  president  of  the  court  to  which  Hoff- 
mann was  attached,  was  a  friend  of  Hippel's  ;  and  both  he 
and  the  genial  good-hearted  second  president  Von  Kircheisen 
noticed  and  encouraged  his  talents.  In  consequence,  he  la- 
boured at  his  duties  and  studies  with  such  zeal  that  he  suc- 
ceeded in  passing  his  third  and  last  examination,  the  so  called 
exajnen  rigorosum,  and  so  qualifying  for  the  position  of  judge 
in  the  highest  courts  of  Prussia,  in  the  summer  of  1799.  He 
was  recommended  for  an  appointment  as  councillor  in  a  pro- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


357 


vincial  supreme  court  ;  but  before  proceeding  to  the  dignity  of 
councillor  it  was  obligatory  upon  him  to  serve  a  probationary 
year  as  assessor.  He  was  accordingly  sent  down  to  the  newly- 
acquired  Polish  provinces  (South  Prussia,  as  they  were  called), 
to  the  town  of  Posen,  where  work  was  plentiful  and  talented 
and  energetic  workers  were  in  demand.  Before  leaving  the 
capital  he  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  friend  Hippel,  who 
spent  two  happy  months  with  him,  living  the  past  over  again, 
visiting  Potsdam,  Dessau,  Leipsic,  Dresden,  &c,  and  discuss- 
ing the  journey  to  Italy,  which  through  all  his  life  Hoffmann 
continued  to  dream  of  as  an  ideal  plan  to  be  some  time  con- 
summated, but  which  unfortunately  never  was  consummated. 
Hippel  accompanied  his  friend  to  Posen. 

The  Polish  provinces  were  fraught  with  great  danger  for 
any  young  man  who  was  not  possessed  of  exceptional  firm- 
ness and  sound  moral  principles.  For  a  young  lawyer,  the 
work  was  severe  and  exacting,  but  the  emoluments  were 
large.  Time,  however,  failed  to  allow  of  cultivating  the  higher 
sources  of  enjoyment ;  hence  all  hastened  to  make  the  most 
of  it  by  throwing  themselves  into  the  lower.  Drinking  was  a 
habit  of  the  country  ;  and  the  drink  that  was  drunk  was  of  the 
strongest  kinds,  the  fiery  wines  of  Hungary  and  strong  liquors. 
There  reigned  also  a  deplorable  laxity  of  morals  ;  and  the 
graceful  Polish  women  were  very  seductive.  That  Hoffmann 
followed  the  example  of  his  colleagues,  and  plunged  into  the 
giddy  whirlpool  of  miscalled  pleasure,  will  perhaps  appear 
natural* when  we  take  into  consideration  the  sources  of  discon- 
tent that  had  for  some  time  been  fermenting  in  his  spirit. 
Having  been  submitted  to  the  trammels  of  unreasonable  con- 
straint, it  need  not  be  wondered  at  that  his  passionate  restless 
nature  should  be  enticed  by  the  temptations  to  which  he  was 
now  so  suddenly  and  unreservedly  exposed,  that  he  forgot  all 
his  higher  strivings  and  cast  his  better  purposes  to  the  winds, 
and  drank  greedily  of  the  pleasures  of  life  which  his  newly- 
won  freedom  brought  in  so  easy  and  seductive  a  form  within 
his  reach.  He  candidly  states,  "  for  some  months  a  conflict 
of  feelings,  principles,  &c,  which  are  directly  contradictory 
the  one  to  the  other,  has  been  raging  within  me  ;  I  wished  to 
stifle  all  recollection,  and  become  what  schoolmasters,  preach- 


353 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


ers,  uncles,  and  aunts  call  profligate."  There  was  none  in  the 
circles  which  he  frequented  to  encourage  him  in  his  desire  to 
reach  out  after  better  things,  to  live  himself  into  "  the  poetry 
of  life,"  as  Hitzig  expresses  it  ;  and  hence  he  fell  into  the  mire 
of  demoralisation,  and  his  fall  was  the  greater  since  he  set 
about  it  with  deliberate  intent. 

He  was  at  length  so  far  carried  away  by  the  delirious  whirl 
into  which  he  had  been  caught  as  to  engage  in  a  piece  of  wan- 
ton folly  that  threw  him  back  upon  his  career  by  some  years, 
just  as  he  was  about  to  plant  his  foot  securely  upon  the  path 
leading  to  the  summits  of  his  profession.  Beguiled  by  his  strik- 
ing talent  for  caricature,  he  designed  and  executed  a  series  of 
sketches,  satirising  in  an  exquisitely  witty  and  humorous  style 
various  situations  and  characters  and  well-known  relations  of 
Posen  society.  The  inscriptions  appended  to  the  caricatures 
were  not  less  skilfully  done  than  were  the  caricatures  them- 
selves. No  rank  of  society  was  spared,  and  hardly  any  person 
of  consequence  in  the  town.  One  of  his  friends,  who  afterwards 
became  his  brother-in-law,  distributed  the  leaves  at  a  masked 
ball  in  the  disguise  of  an  Italian  hawker  of  pictures,  cleverly 
contriving  to  place  each  individual  sketch  in  the  hands  of  the 
person  to  whom  it  would  most  likely  be  most  welcome.  Hence 
for  several  minutes  universal  glee  at  the  excellent  jest !  But 
when  they  came  to  compare  notes,  i.  c,  the  presents  they  had 
received,  the  merriment  gave  way  to  hot  indignation.  The  au- 
thor of  the  outrage  was  very  speedily  guessed  at,  since  there 
was  only  one  person  in  Posen  with  proved  ability  enough  to 
wield  the  pencil  so  as  to  produce  such  striking  likenesses — un- 
fortunate Hoffmann  !  That  very  same  night  it  is  said  that  a 
man  of  high  rank,  General  von  Zastrow,  deeply  incensed  at 
several  of  the  pieces  in  which  he  himself  played  a  ridiculous 
?-ok,  sent  off  an  express  courier  to  Berlin  with  a  report  of  the 
whole  affair.  The  consequence  of  the  thoughtless  trick  was 
that  Hoffmann's  patent  as  councillor  to  the  government  at  Po- 
sen, which  lay  all  ready  for  signing,  was  exchanged  for  one  ap- 
pointing him  to  the  town  of  Plock  (on  the  R.  Vistula).  Thither 
he  went  early  in  1802,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  whose  maiden 
name  was  "  Rorer,  or  rather  Trzczynska,  a  Poless  by  birth, 
daughter  of  the  former  town-councillor  T.  of  Posen,  twenty-two 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


359 


years  old,  of  medium  stature  and  good  figure,  with  dark-brown 
hair  and  dark  blue  eyes,"  as  he  himself  describes  her.  He  had 
taken  the  step  of  marriage  in  face  of  the  earnest  dissuasion  of 
his  uncle  Otto,  in  the  last  months  of  his  residence  in  Posen. 
But  previous  to  this,  late  in  the  autumn  of  1801,  he  had  paid 
another  visit  to  Königsberg,  meeting  on  his  return  journey  his 
friend  Hippel  ;  and  together  they  saw  Elbing  and  Dantzic. 
To  this  latter  visit  we  owe  the  story  of  Der  Artushof '("  Arthur's 
Hall"),  published  in  1817.  Hippel,  be  it  remarked,  was  dis- 
agreeably struck  by  the  change  in  his  friend  :  Hoffmann  gave 
himself  up  to  an  unhealthy  degree,  to  wild  and  extravagant 
gaiety,  and  disclosed  a  liking  for  what  was  low  and  lewd. 

In  Plock  Hoffmann  spent  two  years.  This  was  a  quiet,  stag- 
nant place,  where,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  "  was 
buried  alive,"  and  "  walked  in  a  morass  covered  with  low 
thorny  shrubs  which  lacerated  his  feet  ;  "  he  "  thought  of  Yor- 
ick  and  the  imprisoned  starling  ;  "  and  he  should  have  given 
way  to  despair  had  not  the  bitter  experiences  which  he  was 
made  to  drain  to  the  lees  been  sweetened  by  the  affection  of 
his  dear  good  wife,  who  gave  him  strength  for  the  present  and 
encouraged  him  to  hope  for  the  future.  Owing  to  the  external 
circumstances  in  the  midst  of  which  he  was  fixed,  he  again 
turned  his  attention  seriously  to  music  and  painting,  and  also 
to  authorship.  He  wrote  short  essays,  composed  masses,  ves- 
pers, and  sonatas,  and  translated  Italian  canzonets,  &c.  Scherz, 
List,  und  Rache,  a  Singspiel  of  Goethe's,  he  had  already  set 
to  music  in  Posen.  During  these  two  years  he  led  a  more 
strictly  domestic  life,  and  spent  more  of  his  time  out  of  the 
hours  of  official  duty  in  his  own  house,  than  he  ever  did  after- 
wards. Here  also,  as  almost  everywhere  throughout  his  life, 
he  was  zealous  and  industrious  in  discharging  the  duties  of  his 
position.  At  length,  just  as  he  was  beginning  to  settle  down 
and  feel  contented  with  his  lot  in  Plock,  his  friends  in  Berlin 
succeeded  in  securing  his  removal  (1804)  to  a  better  and  more 
congenial  sphere  of  activity  in  Warsaw.  After  once  more  vis- 
iting Königsberg  in  February,  1804,  and  then  spending  several 
days  with  Hippel  on  his  estate  at  Leistenau  (province  Marien- 
werder, East  Prussia),  he  eventually  proceeded  to  his  new  post 
in  Poland  in  the  spring  of  that  same  year. 


36° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


One  illustrative  and  very  characteristic  anecdote  of  this 
period  deserves  mention.  In  a  letter  to  Hippel,  dated  "  Plock, 
3rd  October,  1803,"  Hoffmann  writes,  "  My  uncle  in  Berlin  will 
never  do  much  more  to  recommend  me,  for  he  has  become  i  a 
grave  man,'  as  Mercutio  says  in  Shakespeare  ;  1  he  died  on  the 
night  of  24 — 25th  September  of  inflammation  of  the  lungs." 
But  in  his  diary  of  October  1  he  writes,  in  allusion  to  the  same 
sad  event,  "  My  tears  did  not  flow,  nor  did  fear  and  grief  draw 
from  me  any  loud  lamentations  ;  but  the  image  of  the  man 
whom  I  loved  and  honoured  is  constantly  before  my  eyes  ;  it 
never  leaves  me.  The  whole  day  through  my  mind  has  been 
in  a  tumult ;  my  nerves  are  so  excited  that  the  least  little  noise 
makes  me  start."  Thus  he  could  jest  in  the  midst  of  pain  ;  and 
it  is  a  type  of  the  man's  character. 

Warsaw,  in  notable  contrast  to  other  places  in  the  Polish 
provinces,  possessed  many  things  calculated  to  excite  and  en- 
gage the  attention  of  an  active  mind,  of  a  mind  so  eager  for 
knowledge  and  so  keenly  alive  to  all  that  was  especially  inter- 
esting and  extraordinary  as  was  Hoffmann's.  The  new  scene 
of  his  labours  cannot  be  better  described  than  in  the  words  of 
Hitzig  and  of  Hoffmann  himself.  The  former  says  the  city 
had 

"  Streets  of  magnificent  breadth,  consisting  of  palaces  in  the  finest 
Italian  style  and  of  wooden  huts  which  threaten  every  moment  to  tumble 
together  about  the  ears  of  their  indwellers  ;  in  these  edifices  Asiatic 
sumptuousness  most  closely  mingled  with  Greenland  filth  ;  a  populace 
incessantly  on  the  stir,  forming,  as  in  a  procession  of  maskers,  the  most 
startling  contrasts — long-bearded  Jews,  and  monks  clad  in  the  garb  of 
every  order,  closely  veiled  nuns  of  the  strictest  rules  and  unapproach- 
able reserve,  and  troops  of  young  Polesses  dressed  in  the  gayest-colour- 
ed silk  mantles  conversing  to  each  other  across  the  spacious  squares, 
venerable  old  Polish  gentlemen  with  moustaches,  caftan,  pass  (girdle), 
sabre,  and  yellow  or  red  boots,  the  coming  generation  in  the  most  match- 
less of  Parisian  fashions,  Turks  and  Greeks,  Russians,  Italians,  and 
Frenchmen  in  a  constantly  varying  crowd  ;  besides  this  an  almost  incon- 
ceivably tolerant  police,  who  never  interfered  to  prevent  any  popular  en- 
joyment, so  that  the  streets  and  squares  were  always  swarming  with 
'  punch-and-judy  '  shows,  dancing-bears,  camels,  and  apes,  whilst  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  most  elegant  equipage  equally  with  the  common  porter 


1  Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.  2. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


36  r 


stopped  to  stare  at  them  open-mouthed  ;  further,  a  theatre  conducted  in 
the  national  language,  a  thoroughly  good  French  troupe,  an  Italian  opera, 
German  comedians,  who  were  at  least  ready  to  undertake  almost  any- 
thing, '  routs '  of  a  quite  original  but  extremely  attractive  kind,  and  re- 
sorts of  pilgrims  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  town — was  there  not 
something  for  an  eye  like  Hoffmann's  to  see  and  for  a  hand  like  Hoff- 
mann's to  sketch  ?  "  1 

Thus  far  Hitzig.    Hoffmann  writes  on  May  14,  1804  : — 

"Yesterday  ...  I  resolved  to  enjoy  myself;  I  threw  away  my 
deeds  and  sat  down  to  the  piano  to  compose  a  sonata,  but  soon  found 
myself  in  the  situation  of  Hogarth's  Musicien  enrage  (Wrathful  Musi- 
cian). Immediately  underneath  my  window  there  arose  certain  differ- 
ences between  three  women  selling  meal,  two  wheelbarrow-men,  and 
one  sailor  ;  each  of  the  parties  pleaded  its  cause  with  a  good  deal  of 
violent  demonstration  before  the  tribunal  of  the  hunchback,  who  stands 
with  a  stall  under  the  door-way  below.  Whilst  this  was  going  on  the 
bells  of  the  parish  church,  of  the  Bennonites,  and  of  the  Dominican 
church  (all  close  to  me)  began  to  clang  ;  in  the  churchyard  of  the  last 
named  (right  opposite  to  me)  the  hopeful  catechumens  were  hammering 
away  on  two  old  kettle-drums,  with  which  all  the  dogs  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, spurred  by  the  strong  powers  of  instinct,  joined  with  a  chorus  of 
barkings  and  howlings — at  that  moment  too  Wambach  and  his  musical 
band  of  Janissaries  trotted  gaily  past  to  the  merry  strains  of  their  own 
music — meeting  them  out  of  [another]  street  came  a  herd  of  swine.  A 
tremendous  friction  in  the  middle  of  the  street — seven  swine  were  ridden 
over  !  Terrific  squealing  ! — Oh  ! — oh  !  a  tutti  invented  for  the  torture  of 
the  damned  !  Here  I  threw  aside  my  pen  and  paper,  pulled  on  my  top- 
boots,  and  ran  away  out  of  the  wild  mad  tumult  through  the  Cracow 
suburb — through  the  '  new  world  ' — down  the  hill.  A  sacred  Grove  re- 
ceived me  in  its  shade  ;  I  was  in  Lazienki.2  Ay,  truly,  the  pleasant 
palace  swims  upon  the  mirror-like  lake  like  a  virgin  swan.  Zephyrs 
come  wafted  through  the  blossoming  trees  loaded  with  voluptuous 
delight.  How  pleasant  to  stroll  through  the  thickly  foliaged  walks  ! 
That  is  the  place  for  an  amiable  Epicurean  to  live  in.  What!  why 
this  man  with  the  white  nose  galloping  3  along  here  through  the  dark- 
leaved  trees  must  be  the  '  Commendatore  '  in  Don  yuan.  Ah  !  John 
Sobieski !  Pink  fecit — male  fecit.  Oh  !  what  a  state  of  things  !  He  is 
riding  over  writhing  prostrate  slaves,  who  are  stretching  up  their  with- 


1  Leben,  iii.  pp.  231-233. 

2  A  suburb  or  park  of  Warsaw,  beneath  the  tall  beeches  of  which 
Hoffmann  loved  to  lie  dreaming,  or  sketch  from  Nature. 

3  An  equestrian  statue  of  John  Sobieski,  the  deliverer  of  Vienna  from 
the  Turks. 


352 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


ered  arms  to  the  rearing  horse— an  ugly  sight  !  What !  is  it  possible  ? 
Great  Sobieski — as  a  Roman  with  wongi  1  has  girt  a  Polish  sabre  about 
his  waist,  and  it  is  made — of  wood — ridiculous  !  .  .  .  You  ask  me, 
my  dear  friend,  how  I  like  Warsaw.  A  motley  world !  too  noisy — too 
wild — too  harum-scarum — everything  topsy-turvey  !  Where  can  I  find 
time  to  write,  to  sketch,  to  compose  music  ?  The  king  ought  to  give  up 
Lazienki  to  me  ;  there  one  could  live  nicely,  if  you  like  !  "  2 

The  first  few  months  of  his  residence  in  this  u  new  world," 
as  it  appeared  to  immigrants  from  the  "  old  land"  of  Prussia, 
Hoffmann  spent  in  familiarising  himself  with  the  novelty  and 
strangeness  of  the  place,  in  wondering  at  and  admiring  the 
motley  scenes  which  daily  met  his  view ;  and  doubtless  his 
acute  perceptive  faculties  gleaned  a  valuable  harvest  of  notes 
for  use  on  future  occasions,  both  for  his  pencil  and  his  pen. 
About  the  end  of  June  he  formed  the  acquaintance  of  J.  E. 
Hitzig,  who  came  down  to  Warsaw  with  the  rank  of  assessor 
in  the  administrative  college  in  which  Hoffmann  held  that  of 
councillor.  The  crust  of  formal  courtesy  and  commonplaces 
was  broken  through  by  Hitzig's  pithy  answer,  to  a  question 
asking  his  opinion  about  some  newly-arrived  colleague,  that  he 
was  "a  man  in  buckram."  The  borrowed  words  of  Falstaff 
banished  Hoffmann's  reserve,  and  caused  his  sombre  face  to 
light  up  with  joy  and  his  tongue  to  pour  out  a  brilliant  gush  of 
talk.  This  new-made  friend,  who  had  previously  (1800,  1801) 
lived  in  Warsaw,  where  he  began  his  career,  introduced  Hoff- 
mann into  a  pleasant  and  intellectual  set  of  men,  amongst 
whom  was  Zacharias  Werner,  author  of  Söhne  des  Thaies,  Das 
Kreuz  an  der  Ostsee, 3  Szc.  Hitzig  had  spent  the  interval  from 
1801  in  Berlin,  where  he  had  kept  fully  abreast  of  the  newest 
productions  in  literature  and  art,  whilst  Hoffmann  had  been 
living,  partly  a  rude  and  riotous  life,  and  partly  a  solitary  and 
monkish  one,  at  Posen  and  Plock.  Hence  the  one  had  plenty 
to  communicate  and  the  other  great  eagerness  to  listen,  espe- 


1  Polish  for  '*  moustaches."  2  Leben,  iii.  pp.  251-254. 

3  A  very  comic  incident,  of  which  Hoffmann  himself  was  the  hero,  took 
place  on  the  occasion  of  Werner's  reading  his  new  tragedy  Das  Kreuz  an 
der  Ostsee  to  a  select  circle  of  friends.  Unfortunately  it  cannot  be  com- 
pressed into  sufficiently  short  space  to  be  quoted  here.  Hoffmann  relates 
it  in  Die  Serapionsbrüder,  vol.  iv. ,  after  Sigiior  Formica. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


363 


daily  as  the  little  he  had  begun  to  hear  roused  anew  his  slum- 
bering better  feelings,  and  whetted  with  a  keen  edge  his  native 
desire  for  self-improvement  through  art  and  literature. 

In  the  following  year,  1805,  one  of  the  Prussian  administra- 
tive officials,  an  enthusiast  in  music,  conceived  the  idea  of  es- 
tablishing a  club  or  society  for  the  purpose  of  amusement  and 
mutual  instruction  in  his  favourite  art,  and  for  the  purpose  also 
of  training  singers  of  both  sexes.  Hoffmann's  interest  was  en- 
listed in  the  scheme  ;  and  things  proceeded  at  an  energetic 
rate,  the  first  concert  being  successful  beyond  expectation. 
With  this  encouragement  the  society  was  induced  to  go  to 
work  on  a  larger  and  more  pretentious  scale.  The  Miniszeki 
Palace,  injured  by  fire,  was  bought  for  the  seat  of  the  new 
academy  ;  and  then  Hoffmann  threw  himself  into  the  plans  of 
the  society  with  all  his  soul,  working  indefatigably  in  prepar- 
ing architectural  designs,  and  later  in  decorating  the  halls 
and  corridors.  During  all  the  mild  days  of  the  spring  of  1806 
he  was  never  to  be  met  with  at  home.  If  not  in  the  govern- 
ment office,  he  was  invariably  to  be  found  perched  up  on  a 
high  scaffolding  in  the  new  musical  Ressource,  painter's  jacket 
on  and  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  colour-pots,  amongst  which 
was  sure  to  be  a  bottle  of  Hungarian  or  Italian  wine  ;  there  he 
painted  and  thence  he  conversed  with  his  friends  below.  If, 
on  occasion,  parties  requiring  the  services  of  Councillor  Hoff- 
mann came  to  look  for  him  at  the  new  Ressource,  whither  they 
had  been  directed  from  his  own  house,  they  were  greatly  sur- 
prised to  see  him  drop  nimbly  to  the  floor  from  before  an 
elaborate  wall-painting  of  ancient  Egyptian  gods,  mixed  up 
with  caricature  figures  and  animal-like  fragments  of  moderns 
(his  friends  with  tails,  wings,  etc.),  hastily  wash  his  hands,  trot 
along  in  front  of  them  to  his  place  of  business,  and  in  a  brief 
space  of  time  turn  out  some  complicated  legal  instrument  with 
which  it  would  defy  the  sharpest  critic  to  find  anything  amiss. 

So  absorbed  was  he  in  this  work,  and  in  that  of  directing  at 
the  evening  performances  and  composing  music  for  them,  that 
he  hardly  kne  w  anything  of  the  dark  thunder-cloud  of  war  that 
was  gathering  in  the  West  until  the  news  of  the  fateful  battle 
of  Jena  came  ;  but  upon  these  music  enthusiasts  in  Warsaw 
even  this  intelligence  made  no  perceptible  impression.  Their 


364 


BIO  GRAPHICAL  NO  TICE. 


concerts  and  practisings  and  meetings  went  on  uninterruptedly- 
just  as  before,  until  one  fine  day  the  advanced  guard  of  the 
Russian  army  rode  into  the  streets  of  the  former  Polish  capital. 
Soon  after  the  Russian  general  had  taken  up  his  quarters  in 
Praga,  close  to  Warsaw,  there  appeared  on  the  other  side  of 
the  town  the  pioneers  of  the  great  army  of  Napoleon.  The 
Prussians  and  Russians  withdrew  from  the  town.  Milhaud  ar- 
rived with  the  main  body  of  Murat's  forces  ;  in  Napoleon's 
name  the  Prussian  Government  was  dissolved,  and  its  officials 
were  superseded  by  native  Poles.  Hence  Hoffmann  was  left 
without  employment.  He  and  his  colleagues  divided  the  con- 
tents of  the  treasury  between  them  to  prevent  its  falling  into 
the  hands  of  the  French  ;  this  secured  them  from  want  for  the 
present.  Careless  about  the  future,  and  revelling  in  the  luxury 
of  untrammelled  freedom,  Hoffmann  was  now  perfectly  happy. 
The  excitement  was  like  rich  wine  to  his  brilliant  fancy  ;  he 
never  had  enough  of  it.  He  spent  all  the  livelong  day  in  run- 
ning about  seeing  and  hearing  the  many  remarkable  things  to 
be  both  seen  and  heard.  And  the  little,  restless,  energetic 
man  was  like  quicksilver  ;  he  was  everywhere.  He  specially 
loved  to  frequent  the  theatres,  where,  before  the  curtain  rose, 
conversations  might  be  heard  carried  on  in  ten  or  a  dozen  liv- 
ing tongues  at  once.  Pushing  his  way  through  the  motley 
throng,  he  penetrated  to  every  part  of  the  house,  busy  gather- 
ing all  sorts  of  rich  observations,  and  storing  up  a  most  varied 
assortment  of  experiences  ;  and  nothing  escaped  his  falcon  eye 
or  remained  unnoticed  by  his  keen  perception.  Many  and  ex- 
quisite were  the  humorous  anecdotes  he  picked  up,  the  ges- 
tures he  copied,  the  tricks  and  eccentricities  he  caught,  the 
extraordinary  characters  he  understood  and  fathomed  at  a 
glance  ;  and  these  experiences  he  afterwards  retailed  to  his 
friends,  to  their  unbounded  delight. 

But  amid  all  the  tumult  of  the  French  occupation  of  the 
city,  the  evenings  at  the  Musical  Ressource  still  went  on  the 
same  as  ever.  Hoffmann  indeed,  in  order  to  escape  the  bur- 
dens of  billeting  as  well  as  from  motives  of  economy,  took  up 
his  residence  in  one  of  the  attics  of  the  Ressource,  where,  though 
somewhat  straitened  for  accommodation  (for  he  had  his  wife, 
a  niece  aged  about  twelve,  and  a  little  baby  daughter  with 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


365 


him),  he  was  as  happy  and  contented  as  he  well  could  be.  He 
had  the  rich  library  of  the  Ressource  at  command,  and  his 
own  piano  stood  in  one  of  its  rooms  ;  and  "  that  was  all  he 
wanted  to  make  him  forget  the  French  and  the  future."  Early 
in  1807,  he  took  advantage  of  a  favourable  opportunity  and 
sent  his  wife  and  the  two  children  to  her  friends  in  Posen  ; 
Hitzig  also,  and  his  family,  and  most  other  friends,  left  War- 
saw in  March  of  that  year  :  thus  Hoffmann  was  left  almost 
alone.  Soon  afterwards  he  was  attacked  by  a  grave  nervous 
disorder,  but  successfully  nursed  through  it  by  the  one  or  two 
friends  who  still  remained  in  the  city.  On  recovering,  he 
wished  to  go  to  Vienna,  with  the  view  of  beginning  an  artistic 
career,  and  was  only  prevented  from  carrying  out  his  design 
by  want  of  money  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  journey.  He 
was  in  great  distress,  and  even  began  to  despond,  until  finally 
in  the  summer  he  contrived  to  get  to  Posen,  and  thence  to 
Berlin,  where  he  arrived  some  time  in  July. 

In  Berlin,  however,  his  prospects  did  not  improve.  He 
failed  to  find  employment  for  his  talents  :  nobody  could  be 
got  to  purchase  his  sketches  or  sit  to  him  for  a  portrait  ;  an 
attempt  to  interest  Iffland,  the  actor  and  dramatist,  in  him 
failed  ;  and  no  publisher  could  be  found  for  his  musical  pro- 
ductions. Everything  he  was  willing  to  do  came  to  nothing. 
Then  came  other  misfortunes.  His  ready-money,  consisting 
of  six  Louis  (Tor,  was  stolen  from  him  ;  news  reached  him  of 
the  death  of  his  dearly-loved  daughter  Cecily  when  two  years 
old,  and  of  the  illness  of  his  wife.  He  was  on  the  point  of  de- 
spair, when  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  to  advertise  for  the 
post  of  musical  director  in  a  theatre.  This  had  the  desired 
effect  of  eventually  securing  him  the  post  he  wished,  in  the 
theatre  at  Bamberg  which  was  conducted  under  the  auspices  of 
Count  von  Soden  ;  but  the  engagement  was  not  to  commence 
until  October,  1808.  The  intervening  months  were  months  of 
hard  struggle  for  Hoffmann  ;  he  says  he  was  almost  in  the  ex- 
tremities of  want,  and  should  have  lacked  the  bare  necessaries 
of  life  had  he  not  succeeded  in  disposing  of  some  minor  produc- 
tions in  music  and  painting  for  a  couple  of  Louis  d'or  received 
in  advance.  In  the  summer  of  1808,  he  at  last  fetched  his  wife 
from  Posen,  and  then  repaired  to  Bamberg  (ist  September). 


366 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


To  these  years  in  Warsaw  and  Berlin  belong  three  operas 
and  other  minor  musical  pieces  (including  music  for  Werner's 
tragedy  Das  Kreuz  a?i  der  Ostsee),  several  productions  of  his 
pencil  and  brush,  but  no  literary  works.  Here  at  the  end  of 
what  may  be  termed  the  first  act  in  E.  T.  W.  Hoffmann's 
chequered  life  we  may  pause  a  moment.  And  the  pause  we 
may  turn  to  account  by  quoting  a  description  of  his  personal 
appearance  and  some  peculiarities  of  habit. 

"  Hoffmann  was  very  short  of  stature,  of  yellowish  complexion  ;  and  he 
had  dark,  almost  black  hair,  growing  down  low  upon  his  forehead,  gray 
eyes  which  had  nothing  remarkable  about  them  when  they  were  at  rest, 
but  which  assumed  an  uncommonly  humorous  and  cunning  expression 
when  he  blinked  them,  as  he  often  did.  His  nose  was  thin  and  of  the 
Roman  type,  and  his  mouth  tightly  closed. 

"Notwithstanding  his  agility,  his  body  seemed  to  be  capable  of  en- 
durance, for  in  contrast  with  his  size  his  breast  was  high  and  his  shoul- 
ders broad. 

'*  During  the  earlier  part  of  his  life  his  dress  was  sufficiently  elegant, 
without  falling  into  foppery.  The  only  thing  he  set  great  and  special 
store  by  was  his  whiskers,  which  he  carefully  cut  so  as  to  form  a  point 
against  the  corners  of  his  mouth.    .    .  . 

"  What  particularly  struck  the  eye  in  his  exterior  was  his  extraordinary 
vivacity  of  movement,  which  rose  to  the  highest  pitch  when  he  began  to 
narrate  anything.  His  manners  at  receiving  and  parting  from  people — 
repeated  quick  short  bendings  of  the  neck  without  moving  the  head — had 
a  good  deal  that  appeared  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  caricature,  and 
might  very  readily  have  been  taken  for  irony  had  not  the  impression 
made  by  his  singular  gestures  on  such  occasions  been  softened  by  his 
cordial  warmth  of  manner. 

''  He  spoke  with  incredible  quickness  and  in  a  somewhat  hoarse  voice, 
so  that  he  was  always  very  difficult  to  understand,  especially  during  the 
last  years  of  his  life,  when  he  had  lost  some  of  his  front  teeth.  When 
relating  he  always  spoke  in  quite  short  sentences  ;  but  when  the  conver- 
sation turned  upon  art  matters  and  he  got  enthusiastic — against  which, 
however,  he  seemed  to  guard  himself— he  employed  long  and  finely 
rounded  periods.  If  he  were  reading  any  of  his  own  compositions  aloud 
— whether  literary  or  official — he  hurried  over  the  unimportant  parts  at 
such  a  rate  that  his  listeners  had  hard  work  to  follow  him  ;  but  those 
places  which  are  called  '  strong  touches  '  in  a  picture  he  emphasised 
with  almost  comic  pathos  ;  he  screwed  up  his  mouth  as  he  read,  and 
looked  round  to  see  if  his  listeners  caught  the  points,  so  that  he  often 
upset  both  his  own  and  their  equilibrium.  Owing  to  this  habit  he  w  as 
conscious  that  he  did  not  read  well,  and  was  always  uncommonly  pleased 
if  anybody  else  would  relieve  him  of  the  task  ;  this,  however,  was  a  tick- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


367 


lish  thing  to  do,  especially  in  the  case  of  MSS.  copy,  for  every  word  read 
falsely  or  every  hesitating  glance  upon  a  word  to  make  sure  what  it  was 
went  like  a  knife  to  his  heart,  and  this  effect  he  could  not  conceal.  As  a 
singer  he  was  a  fine  powerful  tenor.'' 1 

To  Bamberg  Hoffmann  went  with  high  hopes  of  being  able 
to  realise  the  dreams  of  his  life  ;  but  his  fond  expectations 
were  doomed  to  the  bitterest  disappointment.  His  post  he 
barely  retained  two  months.  The  theatre  circumstances  were 
on  an  exact  par  with  those  described  in  Wilhelm  Meister  {vi- 
deatur  the  name  Melina,  &c).  Hoffmann's  style  of  directing 
gave  offence  to  the  Bamberg  public  on  the  very  first  evening  ; 
Count  von  Soden  had  placed  the  management  of  the  theatre 
in  the  hands  of  a  certain  Cuno,  whose  affairs  were  so  embar- 
rassed that  he  never,  or  only  seldom,  paid  his  officials,  and 
finally  became  insolvent  in  February,  1809.  The  disappointed 
director,  embittered  against  the  public  by  his  failure  to  recom- 
mend himself  to  them,  supported  himself  and  his  wife  by  com- 
posing the  incidental  music  for  the  various  pieces  given  at  the 
theatre,  at  a  small  monthly  salary  (of  which  he  received  but 
little),  and  by  giving  music  lessons  in  many  of  the  best  fami- 
lies of  the  town.  But  the  war  approaching  that  district  of  Ger- 
many caused  many  of  these  families  to  leave  the  place  ;  and 
Hoffmann  began  to  be  in  embarrassed  circumstances.  Then 
he  wrote  an  extremely  droll  letter  to  Rochlitz,  the  editor  of  the 
Musicalische  Zeitung  at  Leipsic,  was  taken  on  as  a  contributor, 
and  continued  to  work  for  this  magazine  all  the  time  he  was 
in  Bamberg — producing  mostly  reviews  and  criticisms  of  musi- 
cal works,  and  writing  fugitive  pieces  of  musical  interest.  He 
also  composed  several  pieces  of  music  of  various  descriptions 
independently  of  those  which  he  wrote  for  the  theatre.  Nor 
was  his  brush  idle,  for  he  received  several  commissions  for 
large  family  pictures.  Thus  things  went  on  until  the  summer 
of  1809,  when  a  brighter  cloud  dawned  upon  him  for  a  time. 
One  fine  summer  evening  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Kunz, 
a  bookseller,  publisher,  and  wine-dealer,  at  the  pleasure-resort 
of  Bug  (close  to  Bamberg)  in  a  characteristic  manner.  Kunz, 
an  honest,  jovial,  good-natured  giant,  not  lacking  humour  and 

1  Leben,  v.  pp.  18-20;  cf.  also  Erinnertmgen,  p.  1,  &c. ,  where  Kunz 
details  the  circumstances  under  which  he  was  introduced  to  Hoffmann. 


368 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


gifted  with  a  remarkable  talent  for  mimicry  and  imitation, 
became  little  Hoffmann's  fast  friend — nay,  his  only  real  friend 
— during  the  whole  of  the  time  the  latter  remained  in  Bamberg. 
They  were  almost  inseparable,  associated  in  ail  amusements 
and  diversions  :  they  spent  many  long  winter  evenings  to- 
gether in  pouring  out  their  hearts  and  experiences  to  each 
other  in  mutual  confidences,  and  many  long  summer  evenings 
at  the  "  Rose,"  where  according  to  German  custom  a  throng 
of  visitors  gathered  to  spend  the  hours  between  closing  busi- 
ness and  going  to  bed.  In  July,  1810,  Holbein,  Hoffmann's 
Glogau  friend,  came  to  undertake  the  management  of  the 
Bamberg  theatre.  This,  of  course,  could  not  fail  to  be  of  ad- 
vantage to  Hoffmann,  who,  though  he  did  not  resume  his  post 
of  musical  director,  yet  received  a  permanent  engagement  to 
act  in  a  multitude  of  departments  :  he  was  musical  composer, 
architect,  scene-painter,  part  comptroller  of  the  financial  ar- 
rangements, and  director  of  the  repertoire,  &c.  Under  Hol- 
bein's management  the  theatre  rose  to  a  flourishing  level ; 
classic  operas  and  good  plays  1  were  introduced  with  success, 
to  which  the  versatile  talents  of  Hoffmann  largely  contributed. 
In  the  evenings  the  choice  spirits  of  Bamberg,  mostly  of  theat- 
rical and  artistic  connection,  used  to  assemble  in  the  "  Rose," 
where  Hoffmann  was  the  soul  of  the  party,  his  genius,  wit, 
irony,  and  drollery  being  inexhaustible.  Whilst  sending  out 
flashes  of  sarcastic  wit  or  gleams  of  exquisite  humour,  he 
would  clench  a  droll  or  clever  description  by  quickly  embody- 
ing his  thoughts  and  words  in  impromptu  sketches,  which  were 
handed  round  to  the  company.  Music  and  singing,  often  by 
the  actors  and  actresses,  also  added  to  the  entertainment  of 
the  evening.  Mine  host  of  the  "  Rose  "  saw  his  company  in- 
creased by  some  scores  of  visitors  when  it  was  known  that  the 
inimitable  sharp-eyed  little  music-director  was  going  to  be 
present ;  and  he  used  to  send  across  (Hoffmann  lived  the 
other  side  of  the  street  only)  during  the  day  to  inquire  if  he 
intended  being  there  in  the  evening.    But  on  the  whole,  Hoff- 


1  Several  of  Calderon's,  mainly  at  Hoffmann's  suggestion  and  by  his 
assistance  ;  the  " Worship  of  the  Cross"  was  particularly  successful  in 
the  Catholic  town  of  Bamberg. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


369 


mann  was  more  generally  feared  than  loved,  or  even  respected, 
by  the  main  body  of  the  townsfolk.  His  vanity  was  openly 
displayed ;  he  must  lead  the  conversation,  and  everybody  else 
must  fall  in  with  his  humour  and  his  whim,  or  they  might  ex- 
pect some  marked  rudeness  from  his  bitter  tongue  ;  and  the 
fellow  had  a  confoundedly  sharp  tongue,  and  no  less  sharp  a 
pen  and  pencil.  The  most  wonderful  things  were  said  about 
him  in  the  town,  and  to  those  not  intimate  with  him  or  who 
did  not  know  him  personally,  he  was  a  man  to  be  gazed  at 
from  a  distance  ;  it  was  hardly  safe  to  seek  his  acquaintance, 
although  his  talk  was  said  to  be  something  extraordinary,  and 
his  gestures  and  grimaces  irresistibly  diverting,  yet  he  could 
also  launch  stinging  barbs  and  on  occasion  utter  insulting  sar- 
casms. In  fact  the  outside  public  wrere  wont  to  regard  him 
as  invested  with  a  nimbus  of  wonder,  or  even  as  a  sort  of 
daemonic  being.  Though  these  evenings  were  beyond  all  con- 
ception gay  and  festive,  Hoffmann  seldom  drank  to  excess. 
Of  course  he  drank  a  good  deal  :  he  had  acquired  the  habit, 
as  remarked,  at  Posen,  but  he  was  not  a  common  drinker,  who 
drinks  for  the  drink's  sake.  It  was  the  exhilaration  it  gave  to 
his  spirits  and  the  fire  it  gave  to  his  mind  and  brilliant  parts 
that  he  found  attractive  in  the  habit.1  Excursions  were  also 
made  into  the  country,  particularly  to  Bug  ;  and  here,  as  at 
Warsaw,  the  restless  ' '  quicksilver  "  man  was  everywhere. 

In  March,  181 1,  he  was  fortunate  to  be  introduced  to  Von 
Weber  the  musician,  whose  regard  for  his  musical  talents 
continued  undiminished  until  his  death  ;  and  in  the  same 
month  Hoffmann  paid  a  visit  to  Jean  Paul  at  Bayreuth,  and 
had  from  him  a  fairly  cordial  reception.  Towards  the  end  of 
the  year  came  the  intelligence  that  his  uncle  Otto  Dörffer  of 
Königsberg  had  died,  leaving  him  heir  to  his  property.  But 
the  sum  Hoffmann  received  barely  sufficed,  if  indeed  it  did 
suffice,  to  pay  his  debts.  These  had  been  accumulated  first 
by  Hoffmann's  own  want  of  prudence — when  he  had  money  in 
his  purse  he  spent  it  merrily  without  a  thought  about  the  mor- 

1  Kunz  tells  us  how  they  used  to  go  down  into  the  cellar,  sit  astride  of 
the  cask,  and  drink,  and  sich  des  heitern  Lebens  freuen  with  genial  and 
sprightly  sallies  ;  and  his  picture  has  no  faint  smack  of  Auerbach's  Keller 
{Faust).    See  Leben,  v.  p.  177,  note. 
Vol.  II. — 24 


37o 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


row — and  secondly,  by  the  frequent  illness  of  his  wife,  the 
simple,  homely,  unassuming,  good-natured  creature  with  whom 
he  always  lived  on  happy  terms  in  spite  of  his  own  unpardon- 
able vagaries.  Curiously  enough,  he  used  to  labour  under  the 
odd  delusion  that  she  was  gifted  with  keen  critical  taste  and 
was  an  intellectual  woman,  though  this  was  far  from  being  the 
truth,  according  to  the  express  evidence  of  his  bosom-friend 
Kunz. 

Amongst  Hoffmann's  pupils  was  a  young  girl  of  sixteen, 

Julia  M  ;  this  was  his  favourite  pupil.  For  her  he  came  to 

conceive  an  overmastering  passion  ;  but  whether  it  was  more 
of  the  imagination  or  of  the  heart  it  would  appear  difficult  to 
decide  with  absolute  certainty.  He  did  not  know  himself ; 
"  he  preferred  to  remain  a  riddle  to  himself,  a  riddle  which  he 
always  dreaded  to  have  solved  ;  "  and  he  demanded  from  his 
friend  Kunz  that  he  should  look  upon  him  as  a  "  sacred  inex- 
plicable hieroglyph."  The  girl,  who  was  pretty  and  amiable, 
of  good  understanding,  and  of  child-like  deportment  towards 
her  music-master,  never  for  a  single  moment  dreamt  of  such  a 
thing  as  his  passion  for  her,  and  so  of  course  she  never  con- 
sciously encouraged  it  in  any  way.  She  did  not  even  show 
any  signs  of  possessing  a  dreamy  or  poetic  temperament,  or 
seem  to  be  inclined  to  sentimentality,  so  that  Hoffmann's  ex- 
traordinary infatuation  can  only  be  explained  as  a  "  fixed  in- 
sanity." At  any  rate,  it  powerfully  affected  his  mind,  and 
left  an  indelible  trace  upon  him  almost  down  to  his  dying  day. 
The  day  on  which  her  betrothal  to  a  stupid,  weak-minded  man, 
a  man  in  all  respects  unworthy  of  her,  was  celebrated  at  the 
pleasure-resort  of  Pommersfelden  (four  hours  from  Bamberg), 
was  one  which  shook  Hoffmann's  storm-tossed  soul  to  its  pro- 
foundest  depths.  He  had  hated  himself  for  his  weakness,  and 
yet  could  not  or  would  not  manfully  resolve  to  break  through 
it.  Now  he  was  compelled  to  do  so,  and  in  a  way  that  was 
galling  to  the  utmost  degree.  Her  marriage  turned  out  an  un- 
happy one  ;  and  eight  years  later,  that  is  two  years  before  his 
death,  hearing  she  was  in  great  trouble,  he  sent  many  kind 
messages  to  her  through  a  mutual  friend.  These  relations  are 
detailed  with  striking  truth  and  fidelity  in  the  Nachricht  von 
den  neusten  Schicksalen  des  Hundes  Bcrganza,  published  in 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


371 


the  Fantasiestücke  in  Callofs  Manier  (18 14-15).  Perhnps,  if 
we  sufficiently  compare  the  descriptions  which  he  gives  of 
various  heroines  in  his  tales  (all  of  which  were  written  after 
this  time),1  and  bear  in  mind  the  common  characteristic  run- 
ning through  them  all,  namely,  that  he  puts  them  before  us 
more  as  individual  pictures  than  as  developments  of  character, 
giving  us  purely  objective  sketches  of  them  after  the  manner 
of  a  painter — if  we  compare  these  descriptions  with  what  we 
know  of  Hoffmann's  mind  and  character,  his  restless,  brilliant 
imagination,  and  the  taint  of  sensuousness  that  helped  to  mar 
its  purity,  his  keen  eye  for  beauty  in  form  and  colour,  his 
strong  talent  for  seeing  the  things  with  which  he  came  in  con- 
tact through  an  unmistakable  veil  of  either  love  or  hatred,  we 
may  perhaps  hazard  the  opinion,  without  risk  of  going  far 
wrong,  that  it  was  his  imagination — the  imagination  that  made 
up  such  a  large  part  of  the  man — that  was  principally  con- 
cerned in  this  remarkable  passion  ;  if  his  heart  was  also 
touched,  as  it  would  undoubtedly  appear  to  have  been,  the 
road  to  it  must  no  less  undoubtedly  have  been  found  through 
his  imagination. 

Early  in  18 12  Hoffmann  was  invited  to  a  banquet  at  the 
monastery  of  the  Capuchins  ;  and  the  visit  made  an  extraor- 
dinary impression  upon  him.  All  during  dinner  he  could  not 
keep  his  eyes  off  a  gray-haired  old  monk  with  a  fine  antique 
head,  genuine  Italian  face,  strong-marked  features,  and  long 
snow-white  beard.  On  being  introduced  to  Father  Cyrillus  he 
asked  him  innumerable  questions  about  the  secrets  of  monas- 
tic life,  especially  about  those  things  of  which  "  we  profane 
have  only  dim  guesses,  no  clear  conceptions."  They  got  into 
a  poetic  and  exalted  frame  of  mind,  and  rose  just  as  it  was 
getting  dusk  to  inspect  the  chapel  and  crypt,  and  other  objects 
of  interest.  In  the  crypt  Hoffmann  was  powerfully  agitated  : 
he  reverently  doffed  his  hat,  his  wine-heated  face  became  ter- 
ribly pale,  and  he  visibly  showed  that  he  was  held  in  the  thral- 
dom of  supernatural  awe.  When  Father  Cyrillus  went  on  to 
point  out  the  spot  where  his  own  mortal  remains  should  rest, 


1  Compare  Nanni  in  Meister  Wacht,  Clara  in  Der  Sandmann,  Rose  in 
Meister  Martin,  Cecily  in  Berganza,  &c. 


372 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


and  to  indulge  in  certain  pious  exhortations  to  them  (Hoffmann 
and  Kunz)  to  shed  a  tear  upon  his  grave  if  they  should  come 
there  again  in  after  years,  Hoffmann  lost  control  of  himself ;  he 
stood  like  a  marble  pillar,  his  face  and  eyes  set,  his  hair 
standing  on  end,  unable  to  utter  a  word.1  Then  making  a 
gesture  upwards  he  hurried  out  of  the  crypt  with  hasty  uncer- 
tain steps.  The  impressions  made  upon  him  by  this  visit,  and 
the  observations  he  gathered,  he  employed  in  the  Elixiere  des 
Teufels  and  Kater  Murr  (pt.  IL),  the  meeting  between  Kapell- 
meister Kreisler  and  Father  Hilarius,  as  well  as  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  monastery  and  its  situation  in  the  latter,  being  in- 
vested with  a  fine  poetic  flavour. 

The  scene  in  the  crypt  points  to  another  side  of  Hoffmann's 
character,  or  rather  personality,  which  hitherto  has  not  been 
alluded  to.  In  fact,  it  does  not  seem,  as  far  as  can  be  gathered 
from  the  biographical  sources,  that  it  began  to  be  strongly  de- 
veloped until  the  Bamberg  period.  We  have  seen  how  that 
early  in  life  he  conceived  a  decided  antipathy  to  the  prosaic 
and  the  commonplace,  and  his  career  up  to  this  point  furnishes 
abundant  evidence  that  he  hated  with  a  genuine  hatred  to 
keep  in  the  ruts  of  custom  and  conventionality,  as  if  bound  to 
do  so  because  such  was  prescribed  by  custom  and  convention- 
ality. His  sentiments  he  never  concealed,  and  his  actions 
harmonised,  almost  without  exception,  strictly  with  his  senti- 
ments ;  for  one  of  his  most  striking  and  instructive  character- 
istics was  the  remarkable  fearlessness  which  he  displayed  no 
less  in  his  actual  conduct  than  in  his  habits  of  thought.  Affec- 
tation was  far  from  him  ;  thorough  genuineness  was  stamped 
upon  all  he  did,  showing  unmistakably  that  it  came  direct  from 
the  man  himself.  In  fact  it  might  be  said,  with  special  signifi- 
cance, that  his  inner  and  his  outer  life — the  in  other  cases  in- 
visible life  of  the  soul  and  the  visible  life  in  action — were  per- 
fectly correlated,  if  not  one  and  indivisibly  the  same.  Being 
then  thus  honest  with  himself,'2  and  detesting  as  he  did  all  that 
was  commonplace  and  wearying,  flat  and  stale  and  dull,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  he  should  tend  to  fall  into  the  opposite  extreme, 


1  See  Erinnerungen,  pp.  60  sy. 

2  See  Leben,  iv.  p.  95,  v.  p.  27  ;  Erinnerungen,  pp.  28-31. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


373 


and  should  delight  in  the  unusual,  the  singular,  the  extraordi- 
nary. Further,  when  we  remember  his  fine  imaginative  pow- 
ers, his  inimitable  humour,  his  vanity,  his  poetic  cast  of  mind, 
his  bitterness  against  the  public  for  not  appreciating  his  mu- 
sical talents,  and  his  consequent  fits  of  fierce  defiance  and 
satiric  gloom,  there  is  still  less  cause  for  wonder  when  we  find 
this  propensity  for  seeking  the  uncommon  and  the  marvellous 
deepening  and  developing  in  time  into  an  unconquerable  pen- 
chant for  what  was  grotesque  and  eccentric,  for  what  was  fan- 
tastic, unnatural,  ghostly,  and  horrible.  He  loved  to  occupy 
his  fancy  most  with  the  extremes  of  human  action,  and  to  dive 
down  into  the  most  secret  and  unexplored  recesses  of  human 
nature  to  bring  back  thence  some  wild  startling  trait  that  scarce 
any  other  imagination  save  his  own  would  have  discovered. 
If  he  ever  studied  human  nature  at  all,  it  was  along  the  bor- 
der-lands of  rationality  ;  those  misty  shadowy  states,  such  as 
insanity,  monomania,  and  hypochondriacal  somnambulism, 
where  the  soul  hardly  knows  itself  and  loses  touch  of  reality 
and  almost  of  self-consciousness.  These  and  the  like  mysteri- 
ous states  of  being  exercised  a  strange  fascination  upon  his  spi- 
rit. He  was  constantly  pursued  by  the  idea  that  some  secret 
and  dreadful  calamity  would  happen  to  him,  and  his  mind  was 
often  haunted  by  images  of  awful  form  and  by  "doubles" 
of  himself  and  others.  He  even  believed  he  saw  visions  with 
his  own  bodily  eyes,  and  no  expostulations  of  his  friends 
could  drive  this  belief  out  of  his  head.  Not  only  when  he  was 
engaged  in  writing,  but  even  in  the  midst  of  an  ordinary  con- 
versation, at  supper,  or  whilst  drinking  a  social  glass  of  wine 
or  rum,  he  would  suddenly  exclaim,  "  See  there — there — that 
ugly  little  pigmy — see  what  capers  he  cuts.  Pray  don't  in- 
commode yourself,  my  little  man.  You  are  at  liberty  to  listen 
to  us  as  much  as  you  please.  Will  you  not  approach  nearer  ? 
You  are  welcome."  (Here,  and  occasionally,  he  would  accom- 
pany his  words  with  violent  muscular  contortions  of  the  face.) 
"  Pray  what  will  you  take  ?  Oh  !  don't  go,  my  good  little  fel- 
low." All  this,  or  similar  disconnected  phrases,  he  used  to 
utter  with  his  eyes  fixed  and  riveted  upon  the  place  where  he 
affirmed  he  saw  the  vision  ;  and  if  his  word  was  doubted  or  he 
was  laughed  at  as  a  stupid  foolish  man,  he  would  knit  his 


374 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


brows  and  with  great  earnestness  reiterate  his  assertions  and 
appeal  to  his  wife  to  support  him,  saying,  "  I  often  see  them, 
don't  I,  Mischa  "  (Misza,  Mischa,  short  form  for  the  Polish 
name  Michaelina)  ? 

This  side  of  Hoffmann's  individuality  is  not  only  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  of  him,  it  is  necessary  to  grasp  it  in  order 
to  understand  his  written  works.  These  remarks  will  also 
serve  to  make  more  intelligible  the  sensation  aroused  in  Hoff- 
mann the  evening  he  was  at  the  Capuchin  monastery.  It  is  in 
the  Elixiere  des  Teufels  that  these  noteworthy  traits  find  in 
most  respects  their  fullest  expression. 

To  return  to  the  historical  narrative.  The  story  Meister 
Martin  and  the  unfinished  Der  Feind  owe  their  origin  to  a 
visit  which  Hoffmann  paid  to  Erlangen  and  Nuremberg  in 
March,  1 812.  In  the  same  year  he  also  devoted  some  attention 
to  sport,  and  learned  to  use  a  sportsman's  rifle  ;  but  his  im- 
agination was  always  swifter  than  his  rifle-charge.  A  sitting 
sparrow  he  did  at  length  contrive  to  hit,  but  a  flying  one,  or  a 
hare,  or  even  a  deer,  he  never  could  succeed  in  knocking  over, 
that  is  to  say  the  real  animals.  Clods  of  earth  and  tufts  of 
grass  which  his  imagination  conjured  into  game  he  could  some- 
times hit,  but  no  living  animal  would  ever  be  likely  to  ap- 
proach near  him,  for  his  quick  restless  movements  and  mer- 
curial gestures  were  a  standing  impediment  to  any  game  ever 
coming  within  shot  of  him  unless  actually  driven  close  past  his 
"  stand,"  and  then  his  excitement  either  made  him  fire  too 
soon  or  else  miss.  Nevertheless,  he  enjoyed  these  sporting 
excursions,  in  his  own  eccentric  fashion,  immensely.1 

During  the  summer  Hoffmann  took  up  his  residence  for  four 
weeks  in  the  picturesque  ruins  of  the  castle  of  Altenburg,  in 
the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Bamberg,  where,  whilst  living 
a  hermit's  life  in  company  with  his  spouse,  he  painted  one  of 
the  towers  with  frescoes  illustrative  of  incidents  in  the  life  of 
Count  Adalbert  von  Babenberg,  whose  residence  the  castle 
had  formerly  been.  But  he  also  occupied  himself  with  literary 
schemes  ;  it  was  in  this  retreat  that  he  wrote  certain  sketches 


1  These  adventures  are  described  in  one  of  the  most  humorous  chapters 
(iv.)  of  the  Erinnerungen. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


375 


designed  to  form  parts  of  a  work  which  long  occupied  his  mind, 
but  which  never  came  to  anything,  namely,  the  Lichte  Stunden 
eines  wahnsinnigen  Musikers  (Rational  Intervals  of  a  Crack- 
brained  Musician).  In  this  he  purposed  to  develop  his  opin- 
ions on  the  theory  of  music  and  the  principles  of  harmony. 
The  fragments  were  afterwards  revised  and  appeared  as  the 
Kreisleriana  in  the  Fantasiestücke. 

In  the  next  month,  July,  his  star  of  adversity  was  again  to 
be  in  the  ascendant.  Holbein  severed  his  connection  with  the 
theatre,  and  Hoffmann  lost  his  fixed  income.  Things  grew 
darker  and  darker  for  him,  until  he  was  almost  reduced  to 
actual  want  ;  at  any  rate  he  came  to  be  in  very  embarrassed 
circumstances.  Singular  to  say,  however,  under  all  this  cloud 
of  adversity  he  maintained  a  shining  face  and  a  light  heart 
behind  it.  This  was  peculiar  to  him  ;  Rochlitz  says  "  he  be- 
longed to  the  large  class  of  men  who  can  bear  ill  fortune  better 
than  good  fortune."  During  this  time  of  distress,  which  was  a 
repetition  of  his  dark  days  in  Berlin  in  1807-8,  he  displayed  a 
remarkable  activity  in  his  usual  pursuits.  His  criticism  of  Don 
yuan,  and  exposition  of  the  problem  of  Mozart's  great  opera, 
for  which  Hoffmann  cherished  a  profound  and  almost  extrava- 
gant admiration,  owes  its  origin  to  this  period.1  An  anecdote 
in  relation  to  this  will  also  illustrate  his  true  passionate  admi- 
ration of  art.  Kunz  lost  a  child,  for  which  he  grieved  sadly ; 
two  days  afterwards  Hoffmann  advised  him  to  go  with  him  to 
see  Don  yuan  at  night,  declaring  it  would  assuage  his  grief 
and  soothe  and  comfort  his  heart.  Of  course  Kunz  looked 
upon  the  idea  as  preposterous.  Nevertheless  Hoffmann  would 
not  be  denied  ;  he  exerted  all  his  arts  of  persuasion  to  induce 
his  friend  to  go.  At  last  Kunz  did  go  ;  on  the  way  to  the 
theatre  Hoffmann  discoursed  of  the  opera  in  such  a  sensible, 
acute,  and  touching  way,  and  so  poetically  and  with  especial 
reference  to  his  friend's  loss,  and  afterwards  in  the  theatre  he 
expressed  his  sympathy  in  such  kind  and  delicate  lines,  whilst 
tears  of  genuine  feeling  stood  in  his  eyes,  that  his  friend  was 

1  It  is  treated  of  in  Don  yuan  and  in  Die  Fremdenloge,  in  the  Fantasie- 
stücke. A  recent  critic  has  declared  that  this  essay  will  always  have  value 
in  connection  with  the  stage-representation  of  the  problem  of  Don  Juan 
(c£  Die  Gegenwart,  24th  May,  1884). 


376 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


obliged  to  admit,  "  This  music  of  the  spheres,  which  I  had 
heard  at  least  a  dozen  times  before,  exerted  a  greater  power 
over  me  than  all  the  dictates  of  reason  or  the  consolations  of 
friends." 

In  February,  1813,  the  struggling  ex-director  received  an  al- 
together unexpected  letter  from  Joseph  Seconda,  offering  him 
the  post  of  music-director  to  his  opera  company  at  Dresden  ; 
and  on  April  21,  181 3,  Hoffmann's  residence  in  Bamberg,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  turning-point  in  his  life,  came  to  an 
end.  Four  days  later  he  arrived  at  his  destination  without  en- 
countering any  very  serious  adventure  on  the  road,  although  it 
swarmed  most  of  the  way  with  scouting  Bashkirs,  Cossacks, 
Prussian  hussars,  and  Russian  dragoons,  and  was  thickly  lined 
with  heavy  guns  and  munition-waggons, — massing  for  the  battle 
of  Lützen  (May  2).  On  arriving  at  Dresden  Hoffmann  found 
quite  unexpectedly  his  friend  Hippel,  and  with  him  spent 
several  right  happy  days.  Then  he  was  summoned  by  Seconda 
to  join  him  at  Leipsic,  for  Seconda  seems  to  have  spent  his 
time  between  this  town  and  Dresden.  But  the  journey  was 
postponed  until  May  20th,  owing  to  the  proximity  of  the  con- 
tending forces  and  the  consequent  unsettled  state  of  the 
country.  In  the  intervals  several  sharp  skirmishes  between  the 
Russians  and  French  took  place  in  and  close  around  Dresden. 
As  might  be  expected,  Hoffmann  could  not  check  his  irrepress- 
ible desire  to  be  in  the  thick  of  the  excitement ;  on  May  9th 
he  was  standing  close  beside  one  of  the  town  gates  when  a  ball 
struck  against  a  wall  near  him  and  in  the  rebound  hit  him  on 
the  shin  ;  he  quietly  stooped  down  and  picked  up  the  flattened 
"coin,"  and  preserved  it  as  a  memento,  "  being  quite  satis- 
fied with  that  one  memento,  unselfishly  not  asking  for  any 
more,"  as  he  wrote.  Even  during  these  troubled  restless  days 
he  worked  at  the  Fantasiestücke.  On  the  way  to  Leipsic  hap- 
pened a  startling  occurrence,  which  probably  served  as  the  pro- 
totype for  the  catastrophe  at  the  end  of  Das  Majorat  (The  En- 
tail). The  coach  was  upset  and  a  newly  married  Countess  was 
taken  up  dead  ;  Hoffmann's  own  wife  also  received  a  severe 
wound  on  the  head.  Seconda's  troupe  only  remained  in  Leipsic 
a  few  weeks  longer  ;  permission  was  given  him  to  play  in  the 
Court  theatre  at  Dresden ;  hence  on  24th  June  we  find  Hoff- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


377 


mann  on  his  way  back  to  Dresden,  and  deriving  in  his  charac- 
teristic fashion  much  amusement  from  a  waggon  heavily  laden 
with  theatrical  appurtenances,  living  and  non-living,  something 
in  the  style  of  the  carriage  scene  in  Die  Fermate. 

The  return,  however,  was  a  return  into  the  very  hottest 
scene  of  the  struggle  between  the  Allies  and  Napoleon.  On 
August  26th  and  27th  the  fight  raged  furiously  around  the 
walls  of  Dresden  ;  the  quarter  in  which  Hoffmann  was  living 
was  shelled  ;  the  people  in  the  house  "  bivouaced"  under  the 
stone  stairs,  trembling  with  fear  and  anxiety.  Hoffmann, 
however,  could  not  bear  to  hide  away,  so  he  slipped  out  by  a 
back  door  and  went  to  join  one  of  his  theatrical  friends. 
Looking  out  of  his  window  they  watched  the  damage  done  by 
the  shells,  and  saw  one  burst  in  the  market-place  below, 
crushing  a  soldier's  head,  tearing  open  the  body  of  a  passing 
citizen,  and  seriously  wounding  three  other  people  not  far 
away.  Keller  the  actor,  in  his  start  of  apprehension,  let  his 
glass  fall  out  of  his  hand  ;  "  I,"  says  Hoffmann,  "  drank  mine 
empty  and  cried,  1  What  is  life?  Not  able  to  bear  a  little  bit 
of  hot  iron  ?  Poor  weak  human  nature  !  God  give  me  calm- 
ness and  courage  in  the  midst  of  danger  !  We  can  get  over 
it  all  better  so.'  "  Then  he  returned  to  the  anxious  party 
under  the  steps,  taking  them  wine  and  rum — the  latter  was 
Hoffmann's  favourite  drink.  His  presence  brought  the  unfail- 
ing good  spirits  and  humour  which  hardly  ever  deserted  him, 
even  under  the  darkest  cloud  of  adversity.  On  the  29th  he 
visited  the  battle-field  and  saw  its  cruel  sights  and  its  horrors. 
But  other  horrors  were  in  store  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  ; 
for  the  next  few  weeks  Dresden  was  besieged,  and  her  citizens 
suffered  from  famine  and  pestilence  and  all  the  other  usual 
terrible  concomitants  of  a  siege. 

Hoffmann's  literary  activity  through  all  these  weeks  of  tur- 
moil was  something  astonishing.  Whilst  the  thunders  of  can- 
non were  making  "the  ground  to  tremble  and  the  windows  to 
shake,"  and  the  shells  were  bursting  around  him  and  the 
sharp  crack  and  dull  ping  of  bullets  were  incessantly  striking 
upon  his  ear,  this  extraordinary  man  sat  unconcerned  amidst 
it  all,  absorbed  in  literary  or  musical  composition,  either 
writing  his  Goldener  Topf  {ox  Der  Dichter  und  der  Componist 


373 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


or  Der  Magnetisenr)  or  working  out  his  opera  Undine,  which 
was  begun  in  Bamberg  in  1812.  Even  when  suffering  from 
the  dysentery  which  raged  in  the  place,  his  intellectual  activity 
went  on  without  being  impaired.  In  a  letter  to  Kunz  of  date 
Sept.  8th  of  this  year  he  writes,  "  I  am,  as  you  will  observe, 
unwearied  in  cultivating  the  fine  arts,  and  if  to-morrow  or  the 
day  after  I  am  not  blown  into  the  air  by  a  Prussian  or  Russian 
or  Austrian  shell,  you  will  find  me  fat  and  well-favoured  from 
art  enjoyments  of  every  sort." 

It  was  through  Kunz's  intervention  that  the  Introduction  pre- 
fixed to  the  Fantasiestücke  was  obtained  from  Jean  Paul,  and 
that  against  Hoffmann's  own  wish,  for  all  introductions  ex- 
cept those  which  stand  -as  prolegomena  before  a  scientific  work 
he  hated — when  a  well-known  writer  prefixed  an  introduction 
before  the  work  of  an  unknown  as  a  sort  of  attestation,  it 
seemed  to  him  like  "  an  incendiary  letter  which  the  young 
author  takes  into  his  hand  in  order  to  go  and  beg  for  applause 
with  it."  Another  short  passage  from  one  of  his  letters  to 
Kunz  of  this  same  summer  may  here  be  quoted  as  illustrating 
a  trait  in  his  character  : — 

"  So  far  about  business  ;  and  now  the  earnest  request  that  you  will 
keep  in  mind  and  constantly  before  your  eyes  who  and  what  I  am,  and 
let  our  business  even  be  inspired  with  that  spirit  of  cheerfulness  and 
good-humour  which  always  marked  our  intercourse  with  each  other, 
and  even  in  money  matters  prevented  the  dead,  stiff,  frosty  mercantile 
style  from  coming  to  the  surface.  I  am  sure  it  was  quite  foreign  to  both 
of  us,  and  could  only  excite  in  us  such  fear  as  we  feel  when  set  upon  by 
an  angry  '  wauwau,'  at  which  afterwards  we  can  only  laugh  to  each 
other." 

This  unwillingness,  nay  almost  repugnance  to  look  at  things 
from  their  serious  side,  was  quite  characteristic  of  him.  "  But 
these  are  odiosa  "  was  a  frequent  phrase  in  his  mouth. 

On  9th  December  Seconda  and  his  opera  company  once 
more  repaired  to  Leipsic,  and  Hoffmann  of  course  along  with 
them.  There  on  New  Year's  Day  he  was  struck  down  by  a 
severe  attack  of  inflammation  in  the  chest,  aggravated  by  gout, 
in  consequence  of  a  violent  cold  caught  in  the  theatre  ;  the 
case  was  so  severe  and  grave  that  his  life  was  at  times  in  dan- 
ger.   u  Podagrists  are  generally  visited  by  an  especial  humour 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


379 


— brilliant  fancies  ;  this  comforts  me  ;  I  experience  the  truth 
of  it,  since  often  when  I  feel  the  sharpest  pangs  I  write  con 
amore"  he  states  in  a  letter  to  Kunz  (24th  March).  And  dur- 
ing his  illness  one  of  his  friends  "  found  him  in  one  of  the 
meanest  rooms  in  one  of  the  meanest  inns,  sitting  on  a 
wretched  bed,  but  ill  protected  against  the  cold,  and  with  his 
feet  drawn  up  by  gout."  A  board  was  lying  in  front  of  him,  and 
he  appeared  to  be  busy  doing  something  upon  it.  u  God 
bless  me  !  "  exclaimed  his  friend,  "  whatever  are  you  doing  ?  " 
"  Making  caricatures,"  replied  Hoffmann  laughing — "  carica- 
tures of  the  cursed  Frenchman  ;  I  am  inventing  them,  drawing 
them,  and  colouring  them."  He  also  wrote  about  this  time  the 
Vision  auf  dem  Schlachtfeldcbci  Dresden  and  other  pieces,  and 
finished  his  Undine ;  further,  whilst  in  this  distressing  condi- 
tion, he  began  the  Elixiere  des  Teufels,  the  first  volume  of 
which  was  completed  in  less  than  a  month.  This  work  he  in- 
tended to  be  an  illustration,  or  illustrative  exposition  of  his  own 
notions,  of  "  a  man  who  even  at  his  birth  was  an  object  of 
contention  between  the  powers  divine  and  demoniacal,  and 
his  tortuous  wonderful  life  was  intended  to  exhibit  in  a  clear 
and  distinct  light  those  secret  and  mysterious  combinations  be- 
tween the  human  spirit  and  all  those  Higher  Principles  which 
are  concealed  in  all  Nature,  and  only  flash  out  now  and  again 
— and  these  flashes  we  call  chance."  That  he  succeeded  in 
his  purpose  cannot  be  maintained.  His  own  individuality  was 
too  strong  for  him  ;  he  failed  to  handle  his  subject  from  a 
sufficiently  independent  standpoint.  He  was  not  the  artist 
creating  a  work  that  was  quite  outside  himself ;  he  was  rather 
the  silk-worm  spinning  his  entangling  threads  round  about  him- 
self. The  book  can  scarcely  be  read  without  shuddering  ;  the 
dark  maze  of  humane  motion  and  human  weakness — a  mingling 
of  poetry,  sentimentality,  rollicking  humour,  wild  remorse,  stern 
gloom,  blind  delusion,  dark  insanity,  over  all  which  is  thrown 
a  veil  steeped  in  the  fantastic  and  the  horrible— all  this  detracts 
•from  the  artistic  merits  of  the  work,  but  invests  it  with  a  cor- 
responding proportion  of  interest  as  a  revealer  of  some  of  the 
deepest  secrets  and  hidden  phases  of  the  human  soul,  if  one 
only  has  the  courage  to  wade  through  it.  The  dreamy  mysti- 
fications and  the  wild  insanity  and  mystic  passion  of  Brother 


38° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


Medardus  are  not  unrelieved  by  scenes  and  characters  which 
bear  the  stamp  of  bright  poetic  beauty  and  rich  comic  humour 
{e.g.,  the  character  of  the  Abbess  of  the  Cistercian  convent, 
the  jäger,  the  description  of  the  monastery,  the  scenes  with 
Mr.  Ewson  and  Belcampo  alias  Schönfeld). 

For  some  reason  which  cannot  be  quite  made  out  for  certain, 
either  in  consequence  of  his  continued  illness  or  because  of  a 
quarrel  with  Seconda,  Hoffmann  found  himself  once  more 
adrift  in  the  world  without  an  anchor  to  hold  fast  by  in  Febru- 
ary, 1 8 14.  In  striking  contrast  with  his  treatment  by  the 
Bamberg  public,  his  talents  as  director  whilst  with  Seconda's 
company  were  fully  and  adequately  appreciated,  both  by  the 
artistes  and  the  orchestra,  as  well  as  by  the  general  public. 
This  may  have  been  due  to  two  causes  ;  first,  the  actors  and 
actresses  were  not  embarrassed  by  his  directing  from  the 
pianoforte  instead  of  with  the  violin  as  those  in  Bamberg  were, 
and  in  the  second  place  his  criticisms  and  essays  on  musical 
subjects  in  Rochlitz's  Musicalische  Zeitung  had  gained  him  a 
certain  reputation  as  an  authority  in  musical  matters.  After 
having  refused  the  offer  of  a  post  as  music-director  in  his 
native  city  of  Königsberg  in  February  (1814),  he  was  agreeably 
surprised  by  Hippel's  promise  to  secure  his  return  into  official 
life.  Accordingly  towards  the  end  of  September  in  that  same 
year  he  set  out  for  Berlin. 

Here  ends  what  may  be  termed  the  second  act  of  this  very 
unsettled,  eventful  life.  That  this  wandering  aside  from  the 
career  he  first  started  upon — viz.,  that  of  law  and  public  life — 
to  tread  the  thorny  precarious  path  of  art  was  fraught  with 
greater  consequences  than  can  be  estimated  upon  the  unfort- 
unate man's  character,  will  be  evident  from  what  has  been 
already  stated.  These  dark  years  were  those  mainly  instru- 
mental in  stifling  the  good  germs  that  had  once  been  in  him, 
and  yet  more  did  they  result  in  encouraging  and  bringing  out 
prominently  all  his  less  praiseworthy  qualities.  As  his  works 
and  his  life  are  so  intimately  interwoven,  and  as  his  works 
were  nearly  all  written  subsequent  to  this  disastrous  period,  it 
seemed  desirable  to  dwell  somewhat  upon  the  events  and  cir- 
cumstances of  the  earlier  part  of  his  life.  With  the  view  of 
showing  that  Hoffmann  himself  fully  understood  the  nature 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


3Si 


and  tendency  of  his  existence  in  Bamberg,  the  following  pas- 
sages are  quoted  from  a  letter  written  to  Dr.  Speyer  in  that 
town  in  July,  1813  : — 

"  I  felt  in  my  own  mind  perfectly  convinced  that  I  must  get  out  of 
Bamberg  as  soon  as  possible  if  I  was  not  to  be  ruined  altogether.  Call 
vividly  to  mind  what  my  life  in  Bamberg  was  from  the  first  moment  of 
my  arrival,  and  you  will  allow  that  everything  co-cperated  like  an  hostile 
demoniacal  power  to  thrust  me  forcibly  from  the  path  I  had  chosen,  or 
rather  from  art,  to  which  I  had  devoted  my  entire  existence,  my  very 
self  with  all  my  activities  and  energies.  My  position  under  Cuno,  and 
even  all  those  unbargained-for  duties  which  were  thrown  upon  me  by 
Holbein,  notwithstanding  their  many  seductive  attractions,  but  above 

all  those  scenes  with  which  I  shall  never  forget  and  never  overcome, 

the  old  man's  miserable  stupid  platitudes,  which  yet  in  another  respect 

had  a  pernicious  influence,  those  wretched,  terrible  scenes  with  and 

last  of  all  with  ,  whom  I  always  thought  a  parvenu  ill-bred  imp, — in  a 

word,  everything  that  went  against  all  effort  and  doing  and  work  in  the 
higher  life,  in  which  a  man  raises  himself  on  alert  wing  above  the  stinking 
morass  of  his  miserable  crust-begging  life,  engendered  within  me  an 
inward  dissension — an  inward  strife,  which  much  sooner  than  any  external 
commotion  around  me  would  have  caused  me  to  perish.  Every  harsh 
and  undeserved  indignity  I  had  to  suffer  only  increased  my  secret  ran- 
cour, and  whilst  accustoming  myself  more  and  more  to  wine  as  a  stimu- 
lant and  so  stirring  up  the  fire  to  make  it  burn  more  merrily,  I  heeded 
not  that  this  was  the  only  way  by  which  good  could  come  out  of  the 
ruinous  evil.  In  these  few  words,  in  this  brief  statement,  I  hope  you  will 
find  the  key  to  many  things  which  may  have  appeared  to  you  contra- 
dictory, if  not  enigmatical.    But  transeant  cum  ceteris."  1 

Again,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  we  have  a  descrip- 
tion of  his  own  state  when  he  writes  in  the  Elixiere  (Part  II.), 
"  I  am  what  I  appear  to  be,  and  do  not  appear  as  what  I  really 
am  ;  to  myself  an  unsolvable  riddle,  I  am  at  variance  with  my 
own  self." 

The  change  of  residence  to  Berlin  did  little  to  improve  Hoff- 
mann's circumstances.  During  the  first  ten  months  he  was, 
according  to  the  conditions  imposed,  labouring  to  make  him- 
self acquainted  with  the  changes  that  had  taken  place  in  legal 
procedure,  and  to  fit  himself  for  entering  the  service  of  the 
state  again  and  resuming  his  interrupted  career  ;  but  he  re- 
ceived no  compensation  for  his  pains  ;  he  had  to  support  him- 


1  Leben,  vol.  iv.  pp.  58,  59. 


BIO  GR  A  PHICAL  NO  TICE. 


self  as  best  he  could  by  the  fruits  of  his  pen.  On  July  I,  1815, 
he  was  appointed  to  a  clerkship  in  the  department  of  the 
Minister  of  Justice,  which  post  he  exchanged  on  ist  May,  1816, 
for  that  of  Councillor  in  the  Supreme  Court,  being  also  re- 
stored to  all  his  rights  of  seniority  as  though  no  break  had  ever 
taken  place  in  his  official  career.  The  duties  attaching  to  this 
office  he  continued  to  discharge  with  his  accustomed  diligence 
and  skill  until  promoted  in  the  autumn  of  1821  to  be  a  member 
of  the  Senate  of  Higher  Appeal  in  the  same  court.  Notwith- 
standing his  sad  and  disappointing  experiences,  and  the  tem- 
pestuous times  of  his  "  martyr  years"  at  Bamberg,  he  was  not 
yet  disgusted  with  the  life  of  an  artist.  His  hopes  were  not 
yet  alienated  from  the  calling  that  hovered  before  his  mind  as 
an  ideal  for  so  many  years.  Whilst  battling,  with  somewhat 
less  of  reckless  high  spirits  and  humour,  against  the  embar- 
rassments and  pecuniary  difficulties  which  he  had  to  encounter 
during  these  ten  months,  he  was  also  dreaming  of  an  appoint- 
ment as  Kapellmeister  (orchestral  director)  or  as  musical  com- 
poser to  a  theatre.  He  says  upon  this  point  in  a  letter  to 
Hippel,  of  date  March  12,  181 5,  "  I  cannot  anyhow  cease  to 
interest  myself  in  art ;  and  had  I  not  to  care  for  a  dearly  be- 
loved wife,  and  were  it  not  my  duty  to  try  and  procure  her  a 
comfortable  life  after  what  she  has  gone  through  with  me,  I 
would  rather  become  a  music  schoolmaster  again  than  let  my- 
self be  stamped  in  the  juristic  fulling-mill."  1  After  more  than 
one  disappointment  in  his  efforts  to  secure  permanent  and 
remunerative  employment,  in  which  efforts  he  was  assisted  by 
his  influential  friend  Hippel,  he  became  a  clerk,  as  already 
stated,  in  the  department  of  the  Minister  of  Justice. 

In  his  social  relations  Hoffmann  was  more  fortunate.  He 
now  enjoyed  the  close  companionship  of  Hitzig  again,  and 
through  Hitzig  was  introduced  into  a  select  circle  which 
counted  amongst  its  members  such  men  as  Fouque  (author 
of  Undine),  Chamisso  (of  Peter  Schlemihl  fame),  Contessa, 
Koreff,  Tieck,  Bernhardi,  Devrient,  and  others.  The  harass- 
ing tumultuous  days  he  had  passed  through  during  the  last 
eight  years  had  now  begun  to  make  him  gentler  and  more 


1  Leben,  vol.  iv.  p.  140. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


383 


modest  ;  his  character  was  more  tempered,  and  his  behaviour 
more  subdued.  His  good-nature  too  took  such  a  prominent 
place  in  the  qualities  he  displayed  that  Hitzig's  children  were 
quite  delighted  with  their  father's  newly  arrived  friend  ;  for 
them  Hoffmann  wrote  the  pleasant  little  fairy  tale  Nnssknacker 
und  Mäusekönig  (Nutcracker  and  the  King  of  the  Mice).  Be- 
fore the  end  of  181 5  he  had  finished  the  second  part  of  the 
Elixiere  des  Teufels,  to  which  he  himself  attached  no  value, 
since  its  connection  with  the  first  part  was  broken  ;  its  au- 
thor's ideas  had  got  into  another  track  ;  feelings  and  circum- 
stances were  changed.  Still  less  than  Schiller  with  Don  Carlos, 
did  Hoffmann  succeed  in  making  an  artificial  junction  between 
the  two  parts  of  his  work  atone  for  its  breach  of  artistic  unity  ; 
he  even  said  later  of  the  first  part,  "  I  ought  not  to  have  had 
it  printed."  Besides  this  second  part  of  the  Elixiere,  he  also 
wrote  the  concluding  pieces  of  the  Fantasiestücke,  namely, 
Die  Abenteuer  der  Sylvesternacht,  which  owes  its  existence  to 
Chamisso's  Peter  ScJilemihl  and  to  Chamisso  himself,  who  is 
portrayed  in  the  work  ;  and  also  Die  Corresponded  des  Ka- 
pellmeisters Kreisler  mit  dem  Baron  Wallborn,  that  is  Hoff- 
mann himself  and  Baron  von  Fouque.  With  the  latter  Hoff- 
mann spent  a  happy  fortnight  in  1 8 1 5  at  his  seat  of  Nennhausen 
near  Rathenow ;  Hitzig  was  also  of  the  party.  In  August  of 
the  following  year  the  opera  Undine  was  put  upon  the  stage. 
Though  Fouque's  libretto  did  not  pass  without  some  adverse 
criticism,  all  voices  were  unanimous  in  praise  of  the  music. 
Von  Weber  the  musician  especially  expressed  himself  warmly 
in  admiration  of  it,  affirming  that  it  was  "one  of  the  most 
talented  productions  of  recent  times  ;  "  and  he  especially  sin- 
gled out  for  attention  its  truth,  its  smooth-flowing  melodies, 
and  its  instrumentation;  it  was  "in  truth  one  gush"  of  music. 
The  opera  was  repeated  more  than  a  score  of  times,  when 
unfortunately  the  theatre  was  burnt  down,  and  Hoffmann,  who 
lived  immediately  adjoining  it,  was  almost  burnt  out  of  house 
and  home  at  the  same  time. 

Through  the  success  of  this  opera  as  well  as  through  that  of 
his  Fantasiestücke,  Hoffmann  found  himself  celebrated.  He 
was  invited  as  the  hero  of  the  evening  to  the  fashionable  tea 
circles  of  Berlin,  where  ignorant  or  half-educated  dilettanti 


3^4 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


affected  an  interest  in  art  matters,  that  was  over-strained  and 
wanting  in  sincerity  when  it  was  not  ridiculous.  For  what  was 
there  the  man  could  not  do  ?  He  wrote  books  about  which 
all  Germany  was  talking,  he  could  improvise  on  the  pianoforte, 
compose  operas,  sketch  caricatures,  and  streams  of  wit  gushed 
from  him  so  soon  as  he  opened  his  mouth.  The  homage  show- 
ered upon  him  at  these  gatherings  flattered  Hoffmann's  vanity 
for  a  time,  but  he  soon  saw  the  motives  for  which  he  was  asked 
to  be  present — to  amuse  the  guests  with  his  wit,  to  accompany 
the  daughter  or  lady  of  the  house  on  the  piano,  to  discuss  art 
matters  in  a  becoming  way  now  with  an  old  grandmother,  now 
with  a  grave  professor,  to  tell  diverting  anecdotes,  to  tickle 
the  lazy  minds  of  those  who  listened  with  some  spicy  satire 
upon  their  enemies — in  fact  to  be  made  a  useful  show  of. 
Quickly  fathoming  these  motives,  Hoffmann  proved  himself 
readily  equal  to  the  occasion  :  as  soon  as  he  began  to  get 
bored,  which  very  frequently  was  the  case,  he  made  the  most 
hideous  grimaces,  and  when  he  saw  the  company  were  prepar- 
ing to  draw  something  from  him  by  way  of  criticism  which  they 
could  carry  further  and  perhaps  repeat  again  as  springing  from 
their  own  acute  judgment,  he  began  to  talk  the  most  arrant 
nonsense  he  could  think  of,  or  to  fire  off  some  of  his  stinging 
sarcasms  steeped  in  the  bitterness  of  gall,  till  there  were  none 
but  blank  and  embarrassed  faces  around  him — everybody 
thinking  the  man  was  mad ;  but  he  went  away  delighted  at 
the  consternation  he  had  been  instrumental  in  causing.  The 
givers  of  fashionable  teas  soon  ceased  to  invite  Hoffmann  to 
their  entertainments,  but  they  had  already  sufficiently  sown 
the  seeds  of  fresh  mischief  in  him. 

To  have  more  money  in  his  pockets  than  he  just  required 
for  the  immediate  wants  of  the  moment  was  always  fatal  to 
him,  and  no  less  so  was  the  excitement  attendant  upon  the 
giddy  whirl  of  pleasure  and  social  popularity,  or  what  stood 
for  such.  These  were  rocks  of  danger  upon  which  he  always 
struck.  The  former  led  him  to  indulge  in  his  reprehensible 
habit  of  drinking,  and  the  latter  soon  made  him  upset  all  the 
systems  of  order  and  regulation.  Day  he  turned  into  night 
and  night  into  day.  He  shunned  for  the  most  part  the  so- 
ciety of  Hitzig  and  his  circle  of  friends,  with  their  stimulating 


BIOGRAPHICAL 


NOTICE. 


3*5 


discussions  that  cultivated  the  mind  whilst  unfolding  and  de- 
veloping the  feelings,  and  frequented  a  low  wine-shop  and  the 
common  coarse  company  that  was  to  be  met  with  there. 
Hence  during  nearly  all  the  rest  of  his  life,  that  is,  from  1816 
to  1 82 1,  he  spent  his  mornings  in  the  discharge  of  his  official 
duties  at  the  Supreme  Court  (two  mornings  a  week,  Monday 
and  Thursday),  or  in  writing;  the  afternoons  he  generally 
slept,  or  in  summer  took  a  walk  ;  and  the  evenings  and  nights 
always  found  him  in  the  wine-shop  of  his  choice  ;  and  he  never 
liked  to  leave  it  until  mornitig  came,  nor  did  any  other  en- 
gagements prevent  him  from  putting  in  an  appearance  at  his 
habitual  haunt,  even  though  it  were  past  midnight  before  he 
were  free.  As  already  remarked,  however,  it  was  not  to  sit 
and  drink  like  a  sot  that  he  gave  way  to  this  degrading  habit, 
but  to  get  himself  "  exalted  "  as  he  called  it,  and  then  when 
he  was  duly  "exalted"  came  the  firework  display  of  wit  and 
glowing  fancy,  going  on  hour  after  hour  without  rest  or  inter- 
ruption for  the  space  of  five  or  six  hours  at  once.  If  his  tongue 
was  not  the  medium  through  which  he  discharged  the  creations 
of  his  teeming  imagination,  his  eagle  eye  was  spying  out  all 
that  was  ridiculous  or  strikingly  extraordinary,  or  even  what 
was  possessed  of  a  touch  of  pathos  or  deep  feeling,  or  he  em- 
ployed his  hand  in  sketching  and  drawing  inimitable  carica- 
tures. He  never  sat  idle  and  silent,  and  drank  steadily  and 
stolidly  as  so  many  confirmed  drinkers  do.  Hitzig,  who  was 
deeply  grieved  at  this  downward  course  of  his  friend  and  at 
the  estrangement  it  had  brought  about  between  them,  con- 
trived to  draw  him  away  from  his  demoralising  companions  of 
the  wine-shop  for  at  least  one  night  a  week.  On  that  evening 
there  was  a  small  gathering  at  Hoffmann's  house,  moderation 
being  strictly  enjoined  as  one  of  the  chief  regulations  of  the 
meeting.  This  small  circle,  which  consisted  of  Hoffmann, 
Hitzig,  Contessa,  and  Koreff,1  and  an  occasional  friend  or  two 
whom  one  of  them  introduced,  called  itself  "The  Serapion 
Brethren,"  this  title  being  adopted  from  the  fact  that  the  first 
meeting  was  held  on  the  night  of  the  anniversary  of  that  saint, 


1  Contessa  and  Koreff  are  strikingly  portrayed  in  the  Serapionsbrüder 
(vol.  ii.),  the  former  as  ,k  Sylvester, "  the  latter  as  "  Vincenz." 
Vol.  II.— 25 


3S6 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


according  to  Frau  Hoffmann's  Polish  almanac.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  remark  that  amongst  these  occasional  guests  figures  the 
great  Danish  poet  Oehlenschläger  in  the  year  1816.  In  a 
letter  written  to  Hoffmann  on  March  26th,  1 821,  recommend- 
ing a  young  fellow-countryman  to  him,  Oehlenschläger  says, 
"  Dip  him  also  a  little  in  the  magic  sea  of  your  humour, 
respected  friend,  and  teach  him  how  a  man  can  be  a  phil- 
osopher and  seer  of  the  world  under  the  ironical  mantle  of 
the  mad-house,  and  what  is  more  an  amiable  man  as  well  ;  " 
and  he  subscribes  himself,  "A.  Oehlenschläger,  Serapion 
Brother." 

In  18 1 7  was  published  the  collection  of  tales  called  Die 
NacJitstiicke,  embracing  Der  Sandmann  (The  Sand-man)  and 
Das  Majorat  (The  Entail),  which  reproduce  personages  and 
experiences  belonging  to  the  years  in  Königsberg  ;  Die  Jesui- 
ienkirche  and  Das  steinerne  Herz,  going  back  to  his  life  in 
Glogau  ;  Das  Gelübde,  built  upon  a  story  related  by  his  wife 
as  connected  with  her  native  town  of  Posen  ;  Das  Sanctus, 
which  was  suggested  by  an  incident  in  Berlin  soon  after  Hoff- 
mann's arrival  there  ;  and  Das  öde  Hans,  this  last  due  to  the 
way  in  which  he  was  incessantly  haunted  by  the  appearance 
of  a  closed  house  in  the  Unter  den.  Linden.  These  were  mostly 
written  in  18 16  and  1817  ;  and  to  them  he  added  Ignaz  Denner, 
which  possesses  some  merit,  but  is  of  too  gloomy  and  darkly 
unpleasant  a  cast  to  be  attractive  to  English  readers  ;  it  was 
written  during  the  first  days  in  Dresden,  just  after  his  eman- 
cipation from  the  Bamberg  thraldom.  Whilst  in  it  he  gives 
free  rein  to  sombre  melancholy,  and  dips  his  pen  in  "  mid- 
night blackness,"  in  Berganza,  written  about  the  same  time, 
he  has  poured  out  the  cynical  bitterness  and  scathing  scorn 
which  was  then  undoubtedly  gnawing  at  his  heart.  Der  Sand- 
mann, though  embodying  reminiscences  of  its  author's  youth, 
also  contains  material  derived  from  an  incident  which  took 
place  during  a  visit  of  Hoffmann's  to  Fouque's  country-seat 
near  Ratenow,  and  Nathanael  was  recognised  by  Fouque  as 
meant  for  himself.  Das  Majorat  is,  as  already  stated,  a  last- 
ing memorial  to  his  old  great-uncle,  Vöthöry  ;  the  moral  back- 
bone of  the  story — the  evil  destiny  attaching  to  the  successors 
of  a  man  whose  ambition  aimed  at  founding  a  powerful  family 


BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTICE.  33y 

by  an  act  of  injustice  to  his  youngest  son — reminds  the  reader 
forcibly  of  the  purpose  that  runs  through  Hawthorne's  House 
with  the  Seven  Gables.  Of  the  in  many  respects  admirable 
story  Das  Gelübde — it  is  to  be  regretted  that  it  is  marred  by 
the  dangerous  nature  of  the  subject ;  1  it  is  else  poetically 
treated  and  invested  with  a  spirit  of  weird  mysticism  that  would 
have  made  it  rank  higher  than  what  it  does.  The  others  in  the 
collection  are  of  lesser  merit. 

The  next  year  1818  saw  no  important  work  from  Hoffmann's 
pen  ;  but  in  18 19  appeared  Die  seltsame  Leiden  eines  Theater - 
direktors,  a  book  written  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  which  was 
due  to  the  example  of  his  favourite,  Diderot's  "  Rameau's 
Nephew"  (by  Goethe),  and  which  conveys  a  tolerably  faith- 
ful account  of  Hoffmann's  experiences  in  the  capacity  indicated 
whilst  in  the  town  on  the  Regnitz,  and  indeed  is  useful  as  illus- 
trating the  condition  of  the  German  stage  generally  at  that 
period.  This  was  followed  by  a  kind  of  fairy  tale,  Klein 
Zaches  genannt  Ziimober  j  as  this  book  was  generally  believed 
to  be  a  local  satire  upon  persons  and  circumstances  well  known, 
it  entailed  many  severe  strictures  and  much  unpleasantness 
upon  its  writer.  The  truth  about  it  seems  to  be  this  :  the 
idea — that  of  a  sort  of  ugly  kobold  of  the  Handy  Andy  type — 
was  suggested  by  a  sudden  fancy  during  an  attack  of  fever, 
and  in  a  moment  of  semi-delirium.  On  recovering  his  health 
again,  Hoffmann  set  to  work  in  his  impetuous  and  hasty  way, 
,  and  worked  out  the  idea  in  probably  less  than  a  fortnight. 
Similarly  his  Meister  Floh,  one  of  the  last  and  weakest  carica- 
tures he  wrote,  was  likely  to  have  entailed  disagreeable  conse- 
quences upon  him,  had  not  his  last  illness  come  before  any 
authoritative  steps  could  be  taken.  For  he  had  made  use  of 
incidents  which  came  to  his  knowledge  in  the  official  discharge 
of  his  duties,  and  which  were  of  such  a  character  that  they 
ought  to  have  been  guarded  as  inviolable  secrets  ;  and  he 
further  employed  certain  phrases  which  he  took  from  confi- 
dential papers  that  likewise  came  into  his  hands  in  conse- 
quence of  his  public  position.    In  extenuation  of  his  fault,  or 


1  The  sexual  relations  are  handled  in  a  mystical,  sensuous  way  ;  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind  of  treatment  occurs  again  in  Das  Elementargeist. 


388  BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 

perhaps  in  explanation  of  it,  be  it  remarked  that  his  conduct 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  actuated  by  premeditated  or 
deliberate  malice,  but  to  have  sprung  solely  from  his  reck- 
lessness and  want  of  prudence  :  the  ridiculous  appealed  to  his 
sense  of  humour  so  irresistibly  that  nothing  was  sacred  against 
it,  and  so  nothing  was  safe  from  it. 

In  the  summer  of  1819  Hoffmann  was  ordered  by  his  phys- 
ician to  visit  the  Silesian  baths  ;  and  he  derived  excellent 
benefit  from  the  prescription,  coming  home  stronger  and  in  a 
more  healthful  frame  of  mind  than  his  friends  had  seen  him 
for  a  long  time.  Soon  after  his  return  he  was  appointed  on  the 
commission  selected  to  inquire  into  those  secret  societies  and 
other  suspicious  political  organisations  which  were  particularly 
active  about  this  time  {Burschenschaften,  Landsmannschaften 
in  their  political  aspect).  Towards  the  end  of  the  year  he 
published  the  first  two  volumes  of  the  Serapionsbrüder the 
third  volume  following  in  1820,  and  the  fourth  in  1821. 
These  volumes  contain  all  his  tales  that  had  appeared  in  vari- 
ous magazines  and  serial  publications,  together  with  others 
now  first  published,  and  are  linked  together  by  a  running 
commentary,  or  rather  they  are  set  into  it  as  into  a  framework  ; 
the  Serapion  Society  are  represented  as  meeting  at  stated  in- 
tervals, when  one  or  more  of  the  members  relate  a  tale.  The 
discussions  which  precede  and  follow  the  tales  are  full  of  sage 
remarks  about  art  and  art-matters  and  other  ripe  practical 
wisdom,  and  contain  perhaps  more  matured  thought  than  any- 
thing else  that  proceeded  from  Hoffmann's  pen.  Of  these 
numerous  stories  the  best  have  been  selected  for  translation 
in  these  two  volumes,  namely,  Der  Artushof  (Arthur's  Hall), 
Die  Fermate  (The  Fermata),  Doge  und  Dogaresse  (Doge  and 
Dogess),  Mdister  Martin  der  Küfner  und  seine  Gesellen  (Mas- 
ter Martin  the  Cooper  and  his  Journeymen),  Das  Fräulein  von 
Scude'ri  (Mademoiselle  de  Scuderi),  Spieler  Glück  (Gambler's 
Luck),  and  Signor  Formica.  The  remaining  twelve  tales  call 
for  no  special  mention,  except  perhaps  Nussknacker,  which 
has  been  already  alluded  to,  Das  freinde  Kind,  a  curious  mix- 
ture of  reality  and  fairyland,  and  Der  Zusammenhang  der 
Dinge,  which  is  not  devoid  of  interest.  Several  of  the  things 
in  this  collection  suggest  comparison  with  Poe's  writings  for 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


3§9 


weirdness  and  bizarre  imaginative  power,  though  of  course 
there  are  wide  differences  between  the  styles  of  the  two 
writers. 

In  March,  1820,  came  a  letter  of  good  wishes  from  Beethoven, 
whose  music  Hoffmann  greatly  admired  ;  hence  the  letter  was 
a  source  of  much  real  pleasure  to  him.  Spontini,  the  well- 
known  writer  of  operas,  came  to  Berlin  in  the  summer  of  the 
same  year  and  was  received  by  Hoffmann  with  every  mark  of 
respect.  It  was  indeed  maintained  that  the  composer  of  Un- 
dine showed  an  unworthy  servility  in  the  way  in  which  he 
publicly  acknowledged  Spontini's  talent.  Whether  this  is  true 
would  appear  doubtful  ;  servility  was  not  one  of  the  author's 
failings,  though  vanity  was.  By  Spontini's  ministering  to  his 
vanity  Hoffmann  may  have  been  provoked  to  return  him  the 
compliment  in  his  own  coin,  but  it  is  hardly  likely  that  he  went 
so  far  as  to  flatter  against  his  own  conviction  or  against  his 
better  judgment.  Of  his  longer  and  more  ambitious  works 
the  one  which  he  ranked  highest  in  merit  was  Lebensansichten 
des  Katers  Murr,  nebst  Biographie  des  Kapellmeisters  Johannes 
Kreisler,  the  first  volume  of  which  appeared  in  1820  and  the 
second  in  1822.  In  respect  of  literary  form  and  execution,  as 
well  as  of  artistic  worth,  this  is  undoubtedly  Hoffmann's  most 
finished  production  [i.e.  of  his  longer  works).  It  contains  a 
good  deal  of  genial,  keen,  and  subtle  satire,  conveyed  in  the 
doings  of  Murr  the  tom-cat  ;  and  it  is  also  a  useful  source 
for  early  biographical  details,  both  of  facts  and  of  mental 
development  and  opinions,  contained  in  the  "waste-paper 
leaves"  (treating  of  Kreisler),  inserted  at  frequent  intervals 
between  those  which  carry  on  the  life  and  adventures  of  Murr. 
The  third  volume,  which  was  all  ready  and  completed  in  the 
author's  head,  and  only  wanted  writing  down,  never  came  to 
the  birth.  The  first  two  volumes  present  to  us  a  personifica- 
tion of  Hoffmann's  humoristic  self,  and  the  third  was  to  culmi- 
nate in  Kreisler's  insanity,  a  result  brought  about  by  the  dis- 
appointments and  baffling  experiences  he  encountered  in  life 
— Hoffmann's  own  career,  that  is  ;  and  the  whole  was  to  con- 
clude with  the  Lichte  Stunden  eines  wahnsinnigen  Musikers, 
— a  work  which  had  been  occupying  his  mind  ever  since  he 
was  in  Bamberg,  and  which  had  not  yet  been  executed.  In 


39o 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


1 82 1  was  published  one  of  his  weakest  things,  a  fairy  tale, 
Prinzessin  Brambilla,  which  is  greatly  wanting  in  clearness  of 
conception,  though  he  himself  ranked  it  highly. 

The  excesses  in  which  Hoffmann  had  for  so  long  indulged 
brought  at  last,  as  may  easily  be  conceived,  their  own  inevit- 
able retribution.  The  first  herald  of  the  approaching  physical 
troubles  was  the  death  (November  30,  1821)  of  the  sagacious 
cat  who  was  the  real  hero  of  Hater  Murr.  Hoffmann  was 
much  cut  up  by  the  death  of  his  favourite,  which  he  described 
to  Hitzig  with  truly  touching  pathos.1  Soon  after  this  he  was 
suddenly  stricken  down  by  disease — tabes  dorsalis  ;  his  body 
gradually  died,  beginning  at  the  feet  and  moving  up  to  the 
brain,  a  process  which  lasted  several  weeks.  But  from  the 
autumn  of  1821  to  April,  1822,  he  was  cheered  by  the  daily  visits 
of  the  beloved  friend  of  his  youth,  Hippel,  who  had  come  up 
to  Berlin  for  that  space  of  time.  Hoffmann  celebrated  his 
46th  birthday  with  this  true  friend,  and  with  Hitzig  and  others 
less  dear.  Hoffmann  and  Hippel  were  dwelling  fondly  upon 
the  days  of  their  youth  and  reviving  old  recollections,  when 
mention  was  made  of  death  and  dying.  Hitzig  remarked  in 
substance  that  "  life  was  not  the  highest  of  all  goods  ;  "  this 
caused  the  suffering  Hoffmann  to  reply  with  passionate  em- 
phasis, such  as  he  did  not  give  way  to  on  any  oilier  occasion 
during  the  course  of  the  evening,  "  No,  no — let  me  live,  live — 
let  me  only  live,  no  matter  in  what  condition."  "There  was 
something  awful,"  says  Hitzig,  "  in  the  way  in  which  these 
words  burst  from  his  lips."  And  his  wish  was  fulfilled  in  ter- 
rible wise  ;  one  limb  after  the  other  failed  to  perform  its  office  ; 
his  feet  and  hands  and  certain  parts  of  his  inner  organism  be- 
came quite  dead.  On  the  day  before  he  died  he  was  virtually 
a  corpse  as  far  as  his  neck  ;  and  so  he  was  full  of  hope  that 
he  should  soon  be  well  again,  since  he  "  felt  no  more  pain 
then."  Even  in  this  truly  pitiable  and  helpless  condition  his 
imagination  continued  to  pour  forth  a  stream  of  the  most  whim- 
sical and  humorous  fancies,  and  his  cheerfulness  was  even 
greater  than  in  the  days  of  sound  health.  Hippel's  departure 
in  April  was  a  hard  blow  to  him.    About  four  weeks  before 


*  Leben,  vol.  iv.  pp.  118-120. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


39 1 


his  death  he  underwent  the  sharp  operation  of  being  burned 
on  each  side  of  the  spine  with  red-hot  irons.  When  Hitzig 
entered  the  room  after  the  terrible  operation  was  over,  Hoff- 
mann cried,  "  Can  you  smell  the  flavour  of  roast  meat  ?  "  and 
he  said  that  whilst  the  doctors  were  burning  him,  the  thought 
entered  his  mind  that  the  ''Minister  of  Police  was  having  him 
leaded  lest  he  should  slip  out  as  contraband  ;  " — he  was  shriv- 
elled up  to  a  mummy  almost,  so  that,  owing  to  his  small  size 
as  well,  a  woman  could  carry  him  in  her  arms.  Though  his 
body  was  thus  a  perfect  wreck,  his  mental  powers  were  as 
brilliant  and  keen  as  ever  ;  and  when  his  hands  proved  use- 
less to  him,  he  engaged  the  services  of  an  amanuensis  and 
went  on  dictating  until  almost  the  very  hour  of  his  death.  In 
fact,  the  last  thing  he  spoke  about  was  a  direction  for  his 
writer  to  read  to  him  the  passages  where  he  had  broken  off  in 
Der  Feind ;  then  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  ;  the  fatal 
rattle  was  heard  in  his  throat ;  and  all  Hoffmann's  earthly 
troubles  were  over  (June  25,  1S22). 

It  is  very  remarkable  that  the  works  dictated  by  this  extra- 
ordinary man  on  his  deathbed  show  an  almost  total  departure 
from  the  style  of  most  of  his  previous  tales.  He  no  longer 
records  his  own  experiences, — the  events  and  occurrences, 
the  sentiments  and  thoughts,  that  were  peculiarly  his  own, — 
but  he  writes  from  a  purely  objective  standpoint,  and  creates. 
Of  most  of  his  other  works  it  may  be  said  that  they  are  he  ; 
but  of  these  it  can  only  be  said  they  are  his  in  the  sense  that 
they  owed  their  origin  to  him.  Meister  Johannes  Wacht,  one 
of  these,  is  translated  in  Vol.  II.  The  scene  is  laid  in  Bam- 
berg, and  the  characters  of  the  story  were  also  said  to  be 
faithful  portraits  of  actual  people  in  Bamberg  ;  yet  we  look  in 
vain  to  find  anything  like  Hoffmann  himself  in  it.  Des  Vetters 
Eckfenster,  though  hardly  a  tale,  is  yet  one  of  the  best  things 
Hoffmann  has  written.  Those  who  know  Emile  Souvcstre's  Un 
Philosophe  sous  les  Toits  would  find  in  this  thing  of  Hoffmann's 
dying  days  something  to  their  taste  ;  it  is  a  running  commen- 
tary on  personages  seen  in  the  market  from  the  writer's  own 
window,  and  each  little  scene  brings  before  us  a  true  and  life- 
like character  in  a  few  weighty  and  well-chosen  words.  Die 
Genesung,  a  mere  sketch,  arose  out  of  the  dying  man's  pa^ 


392 


BIO  GR  A  PH  IC  A  L  NO  TICE. 


thetic  longing  to  see  the  green  of  the  woods  and  the  meadows. 
Der  Feind,  a  fragment  full  of  promise,  is  a  tale  of  old  Nurem- 
berg of  the  days  of  Albrecht  Dürer,  who  figures  in  it.  Before 
being  deprived  of  the  use  of  his  hands  he  had  written  several 
other  short  tales,  amongst  which  may  be  mentioned  Die  Doß- 
peltgänger,  as  being  a  favourite  theme  with  Hoffmann,  and 
Der  Elejnentargeist ,  a  weird,  entrancing  story.  In  Die  Räuber 
he  gives  us  a  weak  version  of  Schiller's  celebrated  work. 

In  Hoffmann  we  have  an  instance  of  a  man  who  nearly  all 
his  life  long  failed  to  get  himself  placed  amid  the  circum- 
stances in  the  midst  of  which  it  was  his  one  burning  wish  to 
be  placed.  He  never  found  his  right  calling.  He  is  a  man 
ruined  by  circumstances  [zerfahren).  He  was  not  wanting  in 
warm  natural  feeling,  as  is  proved  by  his  close  and  faithful 
friendships  with  Hippel,  Hitzig,  and  Kunz  ;  and  more  than 
one  instance  of  spontaneous  kindness  and  of  winning  amiabil- 
ity are  preserved  by  his  biographer.1  In  youth  his  mind  and 
heart  were  full  of  noble  thoughts  and  aspirations,  and  he  was 
sincerely  desirous  to  educate  himself  up  to  better  things.  We 
see  it  in  "  May  it  never  happen  to  me  that  my  heart  is  not 
readily  receptive  of  every  communication  from  without,  as 
well  as  for  every  feeling  within,  for  the  head  must  never  injure 
the  heart,  nor  must  the  heart  ever  run  away  with  the  head, 
that  is  my  idea  of  culture,"  and  "  an  excitable  heart  and  a 
restless  nature  will  never  let  us  be  quite  happy,  but  will  have 
a  beneficial  influence  upon  our  education,  upon  our  striving 
after  greater  perfection."  His  poetic  temperament,  and  such 
like  poetic  tendencies,  found  no  responsive  sympathy  amongst 
his  relatives.  Being  thrust  back  upon  himself  and  then  hav- 
ing his  feelings  centred,  when  at  length  they  did  meet  with 
sympathetic  appreciation,  in  such  a  way  as  could  only  bring 
disappointment  and  unhappiness,  he  was  early  made  a  fit  in- 
strument for  circumstances  to  play  upon,  and  sorely  was  he 
buffeted  by  them  through  all  the  years  from  going  to  Posen 
right  down  until  the  day  of  his  death.  But  this  result  must 
also  be  traced  partly  to  the  want  of  a  parent's  loving,  watch- 
ful eye.     In  those  years  which  are  the  most  important  for 


1  Leben,  iii.  pp.  120-123  ;  iv.  p.  60. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


393 


moulding  a  boy's  character  he  was  practically  left  to  go  his 
own  way.  True,  his  uncle  Otto  held  him  down  to  habits  of 
industry  and  order ;  but  he  did  nothing  to  encourage  the  boy's 
better  and  higher  nature,  or  guide  it  sympathetically  along 
the  paths  where  it  was  striving  to  find  its  own  way.  Hoffmann 
had  no  high  idea  of  the  moral  dignity  of  man,  and  at  times 
even  seemed  to  have  but  little  conception  of  it.  The  relations 
upon  which  he  lived  with  his  uncle  Otto  and  the  history  of  his 
own  father  prevented  this  sense  of  moral  worth  from  being 
planted  in  his  mind.  The  germ  which  bore  fruit  in  his  love 
for  extremes,  for  what  was  extraordinary  and  quite  out  of  the 
common  beaten  track  of  life,  was  probably  engendered  in  the 
following  way.  Not  finding  the  sympathy  he  needed  in  his 
efforts  after  a  better  life,  he  turned  in  upon  himself  and  be- 
gan to  despise  the  petty  details  of  everyday  existence  ;  and 
several  passages  in  his  letters  clearly  go  to  show  that  his  un- 
happiness  and  discontent  were  largely  due  to  the  fact  of  his 
overlooking  the  real  enjoyment  to  be  derived  from  the  small 
occurrences  and  events  of  every  day,  which  rightly  viewed  are 
capable  of  affording  such  a  large  fund  of  real  contentment.  In 
a  letter  to  Hippel  early  in  1815,  he  himself  states,  "For  my 
shattered  life  I  have  really  only  myself  to  blame  ;  I  ought  to 
have  shown  more  resolution  and  less  levity  in  my  earlier  years. 
When  a  youth,  when  a  boy,  I  ought  to  have  devoted  myself 
entirely  to  Art  and  never  to  have  thought  of  anything  else. 
But  of  course  something  also  was  due  to  perverse  education." 
It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  from  the  above  that  he 
was  deficient  in  firmness  or  strength  of  will.  The  persever- 
ance with  which  he  worked  through  his  early  examinations,  as 
well  as  the  energy  and  zeal  he  brought  to  bear  upon  his  official 
duties,  contradict  such  supposition.  Specific  instances  might 
also  be  quoted  did  space  permit  ;  it  will  be  enough  to  recall 
his  resolve  never  to  gamble.  It  is  stated  that  he  avowed  his 
intention  to  amend  his  ways  if  he  recovered  from  his  last  fatal 
illness.  The  real  key  to  his  wayward  character  lies  in  the  fact 
just  alluded  to,  that  he  had  no  conception  of  the  supreme  im- 
portance of  moral  worth.  This  was  the  backbone  wanting  in 
his  character  ;  and  for  this  reason  we  fail  to  detect  any  steady 
sterling  course  of  action  through  ail  the  vicissitudes  of  his 


394 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


life.  If  he  had  a  ruling  motive  it  was  capricious  humour  ;  at 
any  rate  it  swayed  him  more  than  anything  else.  On  one  day 
he  would  laugh  at  what  had  annoyed  him  on  the  day  preced- 
ing, or  be  delighted  to-day  at  what  he  had  greeted  yesterday 
with  irony.  Nobody  knew  better  than  himself  how  he  was 
tyrannised  over  by  his  changeable  moods.  "  My  capricious 
humour  (Laune)  is  the  first  weather-prophet  I  know,  and  if  I 
had  the  good-will  and  were  bored  I  could  make  an  almanac," 
is  one  of  his  expressions  ;  and  another  runs,  "  You  know  that 
my  capricious  humour  is  often  Maitre  de  Plaisvr."  Besides 
being  thus  the  creature  of  caprice,  he  was  also  impulsive, 
impetuous,  and  wont  to  act  with  impassioned  haste.  These 
qualities  were  revealed  in  his  restless  vivacious  eyes,  in  his 
movements  and  gestures,  and  even  broke  out  in  extraordinary 
grimaces,  as  already  remarked.  And  just  in  the  same  fervid 
eager  way  he  often  seized  upon  an  idea  or  a  pleasing  fancy, 
till  it  took  complete  possession  of  him  ;  he  could  not  rid  him- 
self of  it.  With'  this  was  combined  his  remarkable  quickness 
of  perception  and  comprehension  ;  a  single  gesture  or  phrase 
was  often  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  grasp  a  character.  What 
he  hated  above  all  things  was  dulness — ennui;  this  never 
failed  to  provoke  his  keenest  irony  and  bitterest  sarcasms.  In 
his  last  years  he  even  became  cynical  and  rugged  and  vulgar, 
in  which  we  may  of  course  trace  the  influence  of  his  tavern 
associates.  It  is  to  his  credit  that  he  did  not  sink  into  Byronic 
misanthropy  and  bitter  self-lacerating  scorn,  or  even  into 
Heine's  irreverence  and  persiflage. 

An  old  German  poet  says,  "  Seht  das  Loos  der  Menschheit 
— Heute  Freude,  Morgen  Leid  ;  "  1  but  with  Hoffmann  joy  and 
pain  were  frequently  more  closely  allied  than  this  even  :  whilst 
the  jest  was  on  his  lips  the  sting  would  be  in  his  heart.  In 
this,  as  well  as  in  several  other  features  of  his  stormy  career, 
he  did  indeed  resemble  his  countryman  Heine.  One  of  the 
necessities  of  his  nature  was  human  society — not  simply  society, 
however,  but  people  who  could  appreciate  him,  who  could  fall 
in  with  his  moods,  and  either  follow  intelligently  when  he  led, 


1  "  Behold  the  lot  of  mankind — joy  to-day,  to-morrow  grief,"  Walther 
von  Eschenbach's  Parzizial,  ii.  133,  11.  23,  24. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


395 


or  lend  him  a  stimulating  and  helping  hand  to  keep  the  ball  of 
wit  and  jollity  rolling.  An  illustration  of  this  is  found  in  the 
fact  that  he  "  did  not  love  the  society  of  women.  If  he  could 
not  mystify  them,  or  draw  them  into  the  circle  of  his  fantasies, 
or  discover  in  them  any  decided  talent  for  comicality,  he  pre- 
ferred the  society  of  men."  Amongst  women,  however,  after 
those  of  the  class  just  named,  he  was  most  interested  in  young 
and  pretty  girls,  being  attracted  by  the  charm  of  their  fresh 
beauty,  not  by  the  charm  of  their  mind.  Learned  women  he 
hated. 

Hoffmann  was,  as  already  observed,  the  child  of  extremes. 
These  were  revealed  not  only  in  his  life  and  action,  but  also  in 
his  writings  ;  for  his  writings  are  the  man.  Indeed  German 
critics  have  said  that  his  works,  particularly  the  Fantasiestücke , 
are  "lyrics  in  prose."  What  they  mean  by  this  phrase  is 
chiefly  that  the  things  he  wrote  exhibit  subjective  phrases  of  his 
nature,  and  are  disconnected,  or  rather  not  connected,  not 
balanced  parts  of  a  systematic  whole.  This  is  true  so  far  as  it 
is  true  that  Hoffmann  never  did  complete  a  long  work,  except 
the  Elixiere,  and  this  work,  as  there  has  been  occasion  to  point 
out,  consists  of  two  disjointed  parts.  One  of  the  things  that 
strike  us  most  in  reading  his  books  is  the  peculiar  mixture  of 
the  real  and  the  unreal,  of  matters  appertaining  to  actual  life 
and  of  fantasies  born  only  of  the  imagination.  Very  often  the 
imagination  would  be  called  by  most  people  a  diseased  imagin- 
ation ;  but  it  is  not  always  so,  sometimes  it  is  the  poet's  imag- 
ination. Hence,  from  this  blending  or  close  alternation  of 
reality  with  what  is  not  of  the  earth — hence  came  his  love  for 
fairy  tales,  tales  in  which  we  meet  with  kobolds,  imps,  witches, 
little  monsters  of  all  kinds — the  spirits  and  apparitions  in  fact 
which  used  to  haunt  his  excited  fancy  in  such  a  strange  way. 
Several  of  these  are  poetic  creatures,  whom  he  handles  in  a 
light,  graceful,  and  pleasing  style  {Goldener  Topf,  Nussknacker, 
Das  fremde  Kind,  &c.)  ;  others,  on  the  other  hand,  are  drawn 
in  horrible  and  unearthly  colours  and  awaken  the  sentiments 
of  awe  and  dread.  What  he  loved  especially  to  dwell  upon 
was  the  "  night  side  of  natural  science,"  the  puzzling  relations 
between  the  psychic  and  the  physical  principles  both  in  man 
and  in  Nature.    Hence  such  slates  as  somnambulism,  magnet- 


396 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


ism,  dreams,  dark  forebodings  of  the  terrible,  inhuman  pas- 
sions, and  such  things  as  automata  and  vampyres,  had  for  him 
an  insuperable  attraction.  Insanity  was  a  mystery  that  haunted 
his  thoughts  for  years  :  it  figures  largely  in  Die  Elixiere  and 
Der  Sandmann  ;  and  in  the  third  part  of  Kater  Murr  it  was 
his  intention  to  represent  Kreisler's  battle  with  adverse  circum- 
stances as  culminating  in  insanity.  Handling  these,  and  states 
and  situations  equally  hideous,  fantastic,  and  grotesque,  with 
extraordinary  clearness  and  precision  both  of  thought  and  of 
language,  considering  the  often  misty  nature  of  the  subjects  he 
treats  of,  and  pouring  upon  the  vivid  pictures  he  conjures  up 
the  brightness  of  his  wit  and  the  exuberant  gaiety  and  grace  of 
his  fancy,  he  succeeds  in  creating  scenes,  situations,  and  char- 
acters which  seem  verily  instinct  with  real  life.  This  end  was 
attained  principally  by  the  true  genius  he  displayed  in  percep- 
tion, apprehension,  and  description.  His  graphic  descriptive 
power  is  that  which  mainly  procured  him  his  wide-reaching 
fame  during  his  own  lifetime,  not  only  in  Germany  but  also  in 
France,  and  is  that  which  principally  gives  to  his  works  what- 
ever permanent  value  they  may  possess.  With  a  painter's  eye 
he  grasps  a  character  or  a  scene  by  a  few  of  its  more  prominent 
and  essential  features,  and  with  a  painter's  hand  and  eye  he 
sketches  them  in  a  few  telling  strokes.  The  reader  must  not 
look  to  find  in  Hoffmann  any  clever  or  subtle  analysis  of  the 
deeper  motives  that  work  towards  the  development  of  charac- 
ter ;  all  that  Hoffmann  can  give  him  will  be  talented  pictures. 
He  himself  lays  down  his  canon  of  literay  spirit  in  the  intro- 
duction to  the  first  volume  of  the  Serapionsbrüder — 

"Vain  are  an  author's  efforts  to  bring  us  to  believe  in  what  he  does  not 
believe  in  himself,  in  what  he  cannot  believe  in,  since  he  has  not  made  it 
his  own  by  seeing  it  (erschauen).  What  else  are  the  characters  of  such  an 
author,  who,  to  borrow  the  old  phrase,  is  no  true  seer,  but  deceitful 
marionettes,  painfully  glued  together  out  of  alien  materials  ?  ...  At 
least  let  each  one  of  us  [the  Brethren]  strive  earnestly  and  truly  to  grasp 
the  image  that  has  arisen  in  his  mind  in  all  its  features,  its  colours,  its 
lights  and  its  shades,  and  then  when  he  feels  himself  really  enkindled  by 
them  let  him  proceed  to  embody  them  in  an  external  description." 

Hoffmann  has  mostly  succeeded  in  acting  up  to  his  canon 
and  has  written  in  its  spirit ;  and  in  so  far  true  genius  cannot 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


397 


be  denied  him.  And  he  possessed  in  no  less  eminent  a  degree 
the  true  art  of  the  born  story-teller.  The  interest  seldom  if 
ever  flags  ;  and  the  curious  anomalies  of  men  and  of  men- 
creatures  {Mensch- Thier e) ,  whom  he  mingles  amongst  his  win- 
ning heroines  and  his  delightful  satiric  characters,  oftener  than 
not  quite  enthrall  the  mind  or  afford  it  true  enjoyment  as  the 
case  may  be,  and  this  they  do  in  spite  of  the  fact  that,  owing 
to  their  own  nature,  they  frequently  stand  outside  the  ordinary 
sphere  of  human  sympathies.  Of  course  it  may  readily  be 
conceived  that  the  danger  which  he  was  liable  to  fall  into  was 
want  of  clearness  in  conception  and  sentiment,  but  he  has 
avoided  this  rock  for  the  most  part  with  wonderful  skill.  One 
of  his  latest  productions,  Prinzessin  Brambilla,  is  the  one 
where  this  fault  is  most  markedly  conspicuous  ;  nor  is  the 
Elixiere  free  from  it. 

German  critics  have  not  failed  to  notice  the  sweet  grace  and 
winning  loveliness  which  hover  about  the  characters  of  most  of 
his  heroines.  They  are  nearly  all  presented  in  colours  im- 
pregnated with  real  poetic  beauty  ;  see,  for  instance,  Sera- 
phina  {Das  Majorat),  Annunciata  {Doge),  Madelon  and  Mdlle. 
de  Scudery  {Scuderi),  Rose  {Meister  Martin),  Cecily  {Ber- 
ganza),  and  others. 

Carlyle,  whose  brief  and  for  the  most  part  truthful  essay 
upon  Hoffmann  (in  vol.  ii.  of  his  German  Romance,  1829)  ap- 
pears to  have  been  based  largely  upon  others'  opinions  rather 
than  upon  first-hand  acquaintance  with  his  author,  says  that 
in  him  "  there  are  the  materials  of  a  glorious  poet,  but  no  poet 
has  been  fashioned  out  of  them."  And  when  we  seek  for 
poetic  elements  in  Hoffmann's  works,  we  are  not  altogether 
disappointed.  We  have  just  stated  that  his  heroines  are  crea- 
tions of  a  poet's  fancy  ;  and  in  the  scene  between  Father  Hila- 
rius and  Kreisler  in  Kater  Murr,  and  in  the  passages  and 
characters  already  alluded  to  in  Die  Elixiere,  in  the  sunny 
cheerful  Märchen — Der  goldene  Topf  (which  Hoffmann  calls  his 
"  poetic  masterpiece"),  in  Das  Gelübde,  Nussknacker,  &c, 
we  enter  the  world  of  higher  imagination.  Again,  whilst  in 
Doge  und  Dogaresse  we  are  arrested  by  the  poetic  charm  of 
the  island  life  of  the  Lagune  in  the  golden  days  of  Venice's 
splendour,  in  Meister  Martin  we  are  no  less,  perhaps  still 


398 


BIO  GRAPHICAL  AO  TICE. 


more  impressed  by  the  rich  romantic  beauty  of  life  in  the 
old  mediaeval  town  of  Nuremberg.  In  Die  Scuderi  we  are 
made  acquainted  with  the  cold  glittering  court  of  Louis  XIV. 
through  the  lovable  character  of  Mdile.  de  Scudery ;  and 
whilst  on  the  one  hand  following  with  deep  interest  the  fate  of 
Brasson  and  his  love,  on  the  other  we  are  led  to  contrast  the 
subtilty  of  the  plot  with  the  fine  analytic  power  of  Poe  in  The 
Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue.  When  visiting  with  Hoffmann  the 
weird  castle  of  Das  Majorat,  we  are  made  to  hear  the  cold 
shrill  blasts  of  the  Baltic  whistling  past  our  ears,  and  to  feel 
the  storm  and  the  sea-spray  clashing  in  our  faces.  These  four 
tales  are  unquestionably  the  best  that  Hoffmann  has  written  ; 
to  them  must  be  added  Meister  Wacht,  on  account  of  its  ex- 
cellent characterisation  of  the  hero.  In  striking  contrast  with 
the  majority  of  the  things  he  has  written,  these  five  tales  show 
him  when  he  is  most  objective  ;  in  them  he  has  wielded  his 
powers  with  more  wise  restraint  than  in  any  of  the  others,  and 
introduced  less  of  his  strange  fantastic  caricatures.  Next  after 
these  tales  must  be  named,  though  on  a  lower  level,  and  sim- 
ply because  they  best  illustrate  his  peculiar  genius,  the  two 
books  of  Kater  Murr,  the  fairy  tale  Der  goldene  Topf,  and  Des 
Vetters  Eckfenster.  In  the  works  here  named  we  have  the 
best  fruits  of  Hoffmann's  pen.  And  if  instead  of  asking  in  the 
mistaken  spirit  of  competition  which  is  now  so  much  in  vogue, 
What  is  Hoffmann's  position  in  literature  ?  we  ask  rather,  Has 
he  written  anything  that  deserves  to  be  read  ?  we  shall  have 
already  had  our  answer.  The  works  here  singled  out  are 
worthy  of  being  preserved  and  read  ;  and  of  them  Das  Maj- 
orat and  Meister  Martin  are  perhaps  entitled  to  be  called  the 
best,  though  some  German  critics  have  mentioned  Meister 
Wacht  along  with  the  former  as  having  a  claim  to  the  first 
rank. 

It  is  now  time  to  take  a  glance  at  Hoffmann's  satiric  power. 
This  was  launched  principally  against  two  classes  of  society  ; 
the  one  is  that  of  which  his  uncle  Otto  was  a  type,  the  man 
who  is  unreasonably  obstinate  in  defence  of  the  conventionali- 
ties of  life,  and  no  less  so  in  their  steady  observance  :  the 
second  class  was  that  whose  representatives  aroused  Hoff- 
mann's ire  so  greatly  at  Bamberg  and  Berlin  "  tea-circles,"  or 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


399 


"  tea-sings  " — those  who  coquetted  with  art  in  an  unworthy  or 
frivolous  manner.  Against  this  latter  class  his  irony  and  satiric 
wrath  were  especially  fierce,  as  may  be  read  in  Berganza,  Die 
Irrungen,  the  Kreisleriana,  Kater  Mtirr,  Signor  Formica,  &c. 
Perhaps  the  most  amusing,  for  quiet  humour,  of  the  former 
class  is  Die  Brautwahl.  The  force  of  his  satiric  power  lay  in 
the  skilful  use  of  sudden  contrast.  Hence  it  plays  more  fre- 
quently upon  or  near  the  surface,  and  lacks  the  depth  and 
pathos  of  true  humour ;  but  it  is  idle  to  expect  from  a  man 
what  he  hasn't  got. 

In  so  far  as  this  author  had  any  serious  philosophical  belief, 
it  would  appear  to  have  been  that  man  was  a  slave  of  Chance, 
or  Fate,  or  Destiny,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called.  Sometimes 
he  is  the  plaything  of  circumstances  ;  sometimes  a  defence- 
less victim  under  "Fate's  brazen  hand,"  or  of  "that  Eternal 
Power  whieh  rules  over  us."  The  real  significance  of  life  is 
summoned  up  in  the  statement  that  it  is  a  struggle  between 
contending  powers  of  good  and  evil,  against  both  of  which  man 
is  equally  helpless.  He  believed  that  whenever  any  good  fell 
to  a  man's  lot  there  was  always  some  evil  lurking  in  ambush 
behind  it,  or,  to  borrow  his  own  expressive  phrase,  "  the  Devil 
must  put  his  tail  upon  everything."  His  further  views  are 
here  quoted  from  Der  Magnetiseur  : — 

"  We  are  knitted  with  all  things  without  us,  with  all  Nature,  in  such 
close  ties,  both  psychic  and  physical,  that  the  severance  from  them 
would,  if  it  were  indeed  possible,  destroy  our  own  existence.  Our  so- 
called  intensive  life  is  conditioned  by  the  extensive  ;  the  former  is  only 
a  reflex  of  the  latter,  in  which  the  figures  and  images  received,  as  if  re- 
flected in  a  concave  mirror,  often  appear  in  changed  relations  that  are 
wonderful  and  singularly  strange,  notwithstanding  that  these  caricatures 
again  find  their  real  originals  in  life.  I  boldly  maintain,  that  no  man  has 
ever  thought  or  dreamt  anything  the  elements  of  which  were  not  to  be 
found  in  Nature  ;  nohow  can  he  get  out  of  her." 

Was  this  the  cause  or  the  result  of  the  visions  he  used  to 
see  ? 

From  his  conception  of  strife  between  good  and  evil  as  inter- 
preting the  significance  of  existence  arose  that  dissonance 
which  lies  at  the  root  of  nearly  all  his  most  characteristic  works 
— that  sense  of  want,  that  failure  to  find  final  satisfaction  which. 


4oo 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE. 


may  be  only  too  readily  detected.  For  the  conflict  within 
himself  he  knew  no  real  mediatory  :  he  was  baffled  to  discover 
a  higher  category  in  which  to  unite  the  conflicting  principles. 
Religion  he  never  willingly  talked  about  ;  hence  it  could  not 
give  him  the  satisfaction  he  lacked.  He  thought  he  found  it 
in  Art,  however ;  since  for  Art  he  battled  with  all  the  strength 
of  his  genius,  and  in  the  sacred  mission  of  Art  he  believed  with 
all  his  soul.  He  has  many  enthusiastic  bursts  on  the  subject, 
agreeing  in  some  respects  with  the  views  laid  down  by  Schiller 
in  his  Aesthetische  Erziehung  des  Menschen  : — 

"  They  alone  are  true  artists  who  devote  themselves  with  undivided 
love  and  enthusiasm  to  their  goddess  ;  to  them  alone  is  true  Art  revealed. 
.  .  .  There  is  no  Art  which  is  not  sacred.  .  .  .  The  sacred  pur- 
pose of  all  Art  is  apprehension  of  Nature  in  that  deepest  sense  of  the 
word  which  enkindles  in  the  soul  an  ardent  striving  after  the  higher  life. 
.  .  .  I  do  not  ask  about  the  artist's  life  ;  but  his  work  must  be  pure, 
in  the  highest  degree  respectable,  and  if  possible  religious.  It  has  no 
need,  therefore,  to  have  any  so-called  moral  tendency;  nay,  it  ought  not 
to  have  such.  The  truly  beautiful  is  itself  moral,  only  in  another  form. 
.  .  .  Art  is  eternally  clear.  The  mists  of  ignorance  are  as  inimical  to 
her  as  the  life-destroying  carbonic  acid  gas  of  immorality.  Art  is  the 
highest  perfection  of  human  power.  Heart  and  Understanding  are  her 
common  parents." 

Music  was  his  favourite  art.  It  first  taught  him  to  feel  ;  and 
not  only  was  it  his  unfailing  solace  in  hours  of  trouble,  but  it 
brought  him  messages  of  deeper  import  :  it  disclosed  to  him 
glimpses  of  another  world — it  was  the  ''language  of  heaven." 
Here  again  a  passage  from  his  own  works  expresses  his  opinions 
upon  this  point  better  than  any  other  pen  can  express  them  : — 

"  No  art,  I  believe,  affords  such  strong  evidence  of  the  spiritual  in  man 
as  music,  and  there  is  no  art  that  requires  so  exclusively  means  that  are 
purely  intellectual  and  setherial.  The  intuition  of  what  is  Highest  and 
Holiest— of  the  Intelligent  Power  which  enkindles  the  spark  of  life  m  all 
Nature — is  audibly  expressed  in  musical  sound  ;  hence  music  and  song 
are  the  utterance  of  the  fullest  perfection  of  existence — praise  of  the 
Creator  !  Agreeably  to  its  real  essential  nature,  therefore,  music  is  re- 
ligious cultus  ;  and  its  origin  is  to  be  sought  for  and  found,  simply  and 
solely,  in  religion,  in  the  Church."  1 


i  Serapionsbrüder,  vol.  ii.,  Introduction  to  part  iv. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTICE, 


401 


Treating  of  Hoffmann's  position  with  respect  to  music, 
Wilibald  Alexis  says,  "  We  do  not  know  any  other  man  who 
has  expressed  in  words  such  a  real  true  enthusiasm  for  an  art 
[as  Hoffmann  for  music] ;  and  specialists  assure  us  that  few 
have  thoroughly  grasped  the  nature  of  music  so  admirably." 

As  far  as  a  foreigner  may  presume  to  judge  of  Hoffmann's 
language  and  literary  style,  it  would  appear  to  be  chiefly  dis- 
tinguished by  strong  grace,  ease,  naturalness,  and  nervous 
vigour.  German  critics  acknowledge  its  charms,  calling  it  a 
model  of  clearness  and  masterly  skill  and  elegance.  Perhaps 
its  beauties  are  best  seen,  that  is  in  a  more  chastened  form,  in 
Kater  Murr.  Repetitions,  however,  and  exaggerations  in  de- 
scription of  sentiment  tend,  at  times,  to  mar  the  reader's 
pleasure.  Signs  of  haste,  too,  are  not  wanting,  as  Carlyle 
pointed  out.  This  was  chiefly  due  to  the  very  large  number 
of  commissions  he  received  from  publishers  and  others,  who 
keenly  competed  for  the  productions  of  his  pen.  At  the  date 
of  his  death  he  had  as  many  commissions  on  hand  as  would,  if 
he  accepted  them  all,  have  kept  him  fully  employed  for  several 
years. 

To  those  who  love  a  good  story,  well  told,  the  five  specially 
mentioned  may  be  recommended  ;  and  for  those  who  desire  to 
explore  the  dark  by-paths  {Irrwege)  of  the  human  spirit,  to 
penetrate  to  some  of  its  rarest  corners,  and  to  know  all  its  ins 
and  outs,  as  well  as  for  those  who  aim  at  studying  German 
literature,  Hoffmann  is  a  writer  who  ought  to  be  read  at  greater 
length. 

Vol.  II.— 26 

THE  TRANSLATOR. 


